Take my word for it, Harry. O God! Harry, please take my word for it!"

She closed her streaming eyes, clutching at his sleeve in a state beyond
her control. "Won't you please? Please!"

He toed the carpet.

"I--I'd sooner be hit in the face, Millie, than--have this happen. Swear I
would! But you see for yourself we--we can't go on this way."

She sat for a moment, her stare widening above the palm clapped tightly
against her mouth.

"Then you mean, Harry, you want--you want a--a--"

"Now, now, Millie, try to keep hold of yourself. You're a sensible woman.
You know I'll do the right thing by you to any amount. You'll have the boy
till he's of age, and after that, too, just as much as you want him. He'll
live right here in the flat with you. Money's no object, the way I'm going
to fix things. Why, Millie, compared to how things are now--you're going to
be a hundred per cent, better off--without me."

She fell to rocking herself in the straight chair.

"Oh, my God! Oh, my God!"

"Now, Millie, don't take it that way. I know that nine men out of ten would
call me crazy to--to let go of a woman like you. But what's the use trying
to keep life in something that's dead? It's because you're too good for me,
Millie. I know that. You know that it's not because I think any less of