"By all the Gods, man, the accusation is an insult," with a haughty
flash of his great eyes.

"You are to be presented; have you forgotten?"

"Forgotten! While life lasts, I shall remember this night."

"Hush, this is the last. She is singing, "Home, Sweet Home'."

"Yes, 'Home,' for these wanderers from all over the earth. See how
silently they file out."

"There is many a tear among them. They will lie, tonight on memory's
couch of sad dreams."

"You are wrong, my friend," said Dick bitterly; "they are more like to
hasten down to the gambling hells to kill the visions memory would
recall."

* * * * *

"Sweet Bird, you cannot believe this thing of me!" The Singer-Lady
raised her bright head from Dick's shoulder, and met, steadfastly, his
passionately adoring eyes.

"Richard, how can you for one moment doubt me? I know you to be good and
true. Were you not exonerated from the last accusation of which you
informed me before you asked for my hand in marriage. And do we not know
that this man is actuated by the motive of jealousy ?"