time. And he promised to come back, didn't he--when he'd given up being
a thief and a swindler and had turned his hand to an honest trade? All
that--for your sake!... Yes, I thought so. But, my dear child, do you
really imagine he meant it--after all these years?"

She looked at him with a piteous little smile. "He--he'd be worth
having--if he did, wouldn't he?" she said.

"I wonder," said Hill.

He waited for a few moments, then laid his hand upon her shoulder with
a touch that seemed to her as heavy as the hand of the law.

"I can't help thinking," he said, "that you'd find a plain man like
myself more satisfactory to live with. It's for you to decide. Only--it
seems a pity to waste your life waiting for someone who will never come."

She could not contradict him. The argument was too obvious. She longed to
put that steady hand away from her, but she felt physically incapable of
doing so. An odd powerlessness possessed her. She was as one caught in a
trap.

Yet after a second or two she mustered strength to ask a question to
which she had long desired an answer. "Did you ever hear any more of
him?"

"Not for certain. I believe he left the country, but I don't know.
Anyway, he found this district too hot to hold him, for he never broke
cover in this direction again. I should have had him if he had."