a common stranger.

He had arranged that she should be placed in a small private room at a
moderate cost, and paid for a week in advance. The cost was a mere
trifle to Courtland. The new overcoat he had meant to buy this week
would more than cover the cost. Besides, if he needed more than his
ample allowance his father was always quite ready to advance what he
wanted. But the strange thing about all this was that, having paid to
put the girl where she would be perfectly comfortable and be well taken
care of, he could not cast her off and forget her. His responsibility
seemed to be doubled with everything he did for her. Between the
problems of deep state perplexities and intrigues was ever the
perplexity about that girl and how she was going to live all alone with
her tragedy--or tragedies--for it was apparent from the little hints she
had dropped that the death of the small brother was only the climax of
quite a series of sorrows that had come to her young life. And yet she,
with all that sorrow compassing her about, could still believe in the
Christ and call upon Him in her trouble! There was a kind of triumphant
feeling in his heart when he reached that conclusion.

He lay on the couch in Tennelly's room that night after supper and tried
to think it out, while the other three clattered away about their marks
and held an indignation meeting over the way Pat was getting
black-listed by all the professors just when he was trying so hard. He
didn't know the fellows were keeping it up to get his mind away from the
funeral. He was thinking about that girl.

The doctor had told him that she was very much run down. It looked as if
the process had been going on for some time. Her heart action was not
all it should be, and there were symptoms of lack of nutrition. What she