in return for what you give her."

"Never?" he repeated mournfully, "never?"

"No, never! You have been a good friend
to me, and as such I value you highly, and I had
hoped that you would always remain so. But
I see that it cannot be. It will perhaps be best
for you henceforth not to see me, at least not
until--pardon the expression--you have out-
lived this generous folly. And now, you know,
you will need me no more. You have made a
splendid reputation, and if you choose to avail
yourself of it, your fortune is already made. I
shall always rejoice to hear of your success, and
--and if you should ever need a FRIEND, you
must come to no one but me. I know that these
are feeble words, Mr. Birch, and if they seem
cold to you, you must pardon me. I can say
nothing more."

They were indeed feeble words, although
most cordially spoken. He tried to weigh them,
to measure their meaning, but his mind was as
if benumbed, and utterly incapable of thought.
He walked across the floor, perhaps only to do
something, not feeling where he trod, but still
with an absurd sensation that he was taking
immoderately long steps. Then he stopped
abruptly, wrung his hands, and gazed at Edith.