In London the old lady who sold matches at the street corner had got all his pence; had he heard her, or any other, mourning a son sentenced to the gallows, he would immediately have wondered whether he might take the condemned one's place.

(What a speech Tommy could have delivered from the scaffold!) There was nothing he would not jump at doing for a woman in distress, except, perhaps, destroy his note-book.

And Grizel was in anguish.

She was his suppliant, his brave, lonely little playmate of the past, the noble girl of to-day, Grizel whom he liked so much.

As through a magnifying-glass he saw her top-heavy with remorse for life, unable to sleep of nights, crushed and---- He was not made of the stuff that could endure it.