to the other side of the street. She walked slowly, and, reaching the
sidewalk in front of the Doctor's house, hesitated, in a troubled,
undecided way. Approaching the gate, she paused, then drew back and
moved on slowly up the street. Her movements and manner gave the
impression that she was in trouble, perhaps in pain.

"There's something wrong there," said the Doctor. "Who is it? Can you
see who it is, Denny?"

"Yes, sir," he answered, and Deborah broke in, "it's that poor girl
of--of Jim Conner's, sir."

The Doctor, at once nervous and agitated, was not a little worried and
could make no reply, knowing that it was Jim Conner who had killed
Deborah's husband.

"Poor thing," murmured Deborah. "For the love of God, look at that now,
Doctor!"

The girl had reached the corner, and had fallen or thrown herself in a
crouching heap against the monument.

The widow was starting for the street, but Denny caught her arm: "No--no
mother, you mustn't do that, you know how she's scared to death of you;
let the Doctor go."

The physician was already on his way as fast as his old legs would take
him.