He has sent down an angel out of Heaven to help me." He took her portrait from the mantelpiece and handed it me.

It seemed to me the face of a hard, narrow woman, but, of course, he raved about her.
As he talked, there fluttered to the ground from the heap before him an old restaurant bill, and, stooping, he picked it up and held it in his hand, musing.
"Have you ever noticed how the scent of the champagne and the candles seems to cling to these things ?" he said lightly, sniffing carelessly at it.

"I wonder what's become of her ?" "I think I wouldn't think about her at all to-night," I answered.
He loosened his hand, letting the paper fall into the fire.
"My God!" he cried vehemently, "when I think of all the wrong I have done--the irreparable, ever-widening ruin I have perhaps brought into the world--O God! spare me a long life that I may make amends.

Every hour, every minute of it shall be devoted to your service." As he stood there, with his eager boyish eyes upraised, a light seemed to fall upon his face and illumine it.

I had pushed the photograph back to him, and it lay upon the table before him.