He passed his hand over his eyes with that weary gesture peculiar to
him, and then fell silent.

Myrtle had remained standing. She did not know what to do in this
emergency, or what more to say. The conversation could not be ended in
this summary fashion. The hopeless man needed her in some way; how,
she did not know. Feeling weak and very incompetent to meet the
important crisis properly, the girl crept to a chair opposite the man
and sank into it. Then she leaned her chin upon her hand and looked
pleadingly at her strange acquaintance. He met her eyes frankly.
The hard look in his own seemed to have disappeared, dispelled by a
sympathy that was new to him.

And so they sat, regarding one another silently yet musingly, for a
long time.

"I wish," said Myrtle once, in her softest, sweetest tones, "I could
help you. Some one helped me when I was in great trouble, so I want to
help you."

He did not reply, and another period of silence ensued. But his next
speech showed he had been considering her words.

"Because you have suffered," he said, "you have compassion for others
who suffer. But your trouble is over now?"

"Almost," she said, smiling brightly.

He sighed, but questioned her no farther.