the place where I can see her window.' It is something to hold one's mind in check with. This rambling—and—and forgetting what one has meant to think about is a terrible thing."
"Come home with me," she said. "We will not talk. You can lie on the sofa and we will go away. I want your mother to sleep."
Something in her presence began to influence him to a saner mood.
"What are you doing here?" he asked. "It is midnight."
"I am not afraid. I could not bear to stay in the house. We sit there——"
An idea seemed to strike him suddenly. He stopped her and asked deliberately:
"Did you come because you thought I might do myself harm?"
She would not answer, and after waiting a second or so he went on slowly:
"I have thought I might myself—sometimes, but never for long. You have no need to fear. I am always stopped by the thought that—perhaps—it is not worth it after all. When things look clearer, I shall get over it. Yes—I think I shall get over it—though now there seems to be no end. But—some day—it will come—and I shall get over it. Don't be afraid that I shall do myself harm. If I am not killed—before the end comes—I shall not kill myself. I shall know it was not worth it after all."
The tears had been running down her cheeks as she stood, but she bit her lip and forced herself to breathe evenly, so that he might not find her out. But just then, as he moved, a great drop fell upon the back of his hand. He stopped and began to tremble.
