morning, but I did. Take it. It's more than money. It's got something
of Jean Jacques about it. You've got the Barbille fruit-dish-that is a
thing I'll remember. I'm glad you've got it, and--"

"I meant we should both eat from it," she said helplessly.

"It would cost too much to eat from it with you, Virginie--"

He stopped short, choked, then his face cleared, and his eyes became
steady.

"Well then, good-bye, Virginie," he said, holding out his hand.

"You don't think I'd say to any other living man what I've said to you?"
she asked.

He nodded understandingly. "That's the best part of it. It was for me
of all the world," he answered. "When I look back, I'll see the light
in your window--the light you lit for the lost one--for Jean Jacques
Barbille."

Suddenly, with eyes that did not see and hands held out before him, he
turned, felt for the door and left the room.

She leaned helplessly against the table. "The poor Jean Jacques--the
poor Jean Jacques!" she murmured. "Cure or no Cure, I'd have done it,"
she declared, with a ring to her voice. "Ah, but Jean Jacques, come with
me!" she added with a hungry and compassionate gesture, speaking into
space. "I could make life worth while for us both."