needlessly distressed.' She took leave of me; she kissed
the little girl for the last time--oh, don't ask me to tell
you about it! I shall break down if I try. Come, my darling!"
He kissed the child tenderly, and took her away with him.

"That man is a strange compound of strength and weakness,"
the Doctor remarked. "Did you notice his face, just now? Nine
men out of ten, suffering as he suffered, would have failed
to control themselves. Such resolution as his _may_ conquer
the difficulties that are in store for him yet."

It was a trial of my temper to hear my clever colleague
justifying, in this way, the ignorant prediction of an insolent
woman.

"There are exceptions to all rules," I insisted. "And why are
the virtues of the parents not just as likely to descend to
the children as the vices? There was a fund of good, I can tell
you, in that poor baby's father--though I don't deny that he was
a profligate man. And even the horrible mother--as you heard just
now--has virtue enough left in her to feel grateful to the man
who has taken care of her child. These are facts; you can't
dispute them."

The Doctor took out his pipe. "Do you mind my smoking?" he asked.
"Tobacco helps me to arrange my ideas."

I gave him the means of arranging his ideas; that is to say,
I gave him the match-box. He blew some preliminary clouds of
smoke and then he answered me: