He had covered his face with his palms, and his head was bent.
The girl reached out as if to touch the rumpled brown hair with
consoling fingers, then drew her hand back. In a moment, when
her courage came, he should know what share of comfort she was
ready to give him. Meanwhile, she hungered to make the farthest
reach of his suffering her own.

"Since then?" she asked softly.

"Since then I have been trying to build my life up out of its
ruins. I have tried to win content and even gladness, for I hold
that man should be master of himself, even of remorse for his old
sins. You see, I've been busy trying to find out people who had
the same kind of misery, or some other kind, to face."

"Shepherd of the wretched," said the girl dreamily.

"Something like that," he answered.

The girl's face was all a-quiver for pity of the tale; in
listening to the story of his life she had completely forgotten
her own. Then, before she knew what was happening, he rose
abruptly and held out his hand.

"Every minute that I stay makes matters harder," he said. "I've
got to go to see if I cannot win gladness even out of this, for
still my gospel is the gospel of joy. Good-by."

Suddenly Daphne realized that he was gone! She could hear his
footsteps on the pebble-stones of the walk as he swung on with