e Ben thrust my hand into its hideous, but
harmless, red mouth. Even as a kid I began, then, to try--not to run.
I've tried ever since But to-day--I did run."

Arkwright's voice had been getting lower and lower. The last three words
would have been almost inaudible to ears less sensitively alert than
were Alice Greggory's. For a moment after the words were uttered, only
the clock's ticking broke the silence; then, with an obvious effort, the
man roused himself, as if breaking away from some benumbing force that
held him.

"Alice, I don't need to tell you, after what I said the other night,
that I loved Billy Neilson. That was bad enough, for I found she was
pledged to another man. But to-day I discovered something worse: I
discovered that I loved Billy _Henshaw_--another man's wife. And--I ran.
But I've come back. I'm going to face the thing. Oh, I'm not deceiving
myself! This love of mine is no dead tiger skin. It's a beast, alive and
alert--God pity me!--to destroy my very soul. But I'm going to fight it;
and--I want you to help me."

The girl gave a half-smothered cry. The man turned, but he could not
see her face distinctly. Twilight had come, and the room was full of
shadows. He hesitated, then went on, a little more quietly.

"That's why I've told you all this--so you would help me. And you will,
won't you?"

There was no answer. Once again he tried to see her face, but it was
turned now quite away from him.

"You've been a big help already, little girl. Your friendship, your
comradeship--they've been everything to me. You're not going to make me
do without them--now?"

"No--oh, no!" The answer was low and a little breathless; but he heard
it.

"Thank you. I knew you wouldn't." He paused, then rose to his feet. When
he spoke again his voice carried a note of whimsical lightness that was
a little forced. "But I must go--else you _will_ take them from me,
and with good reason. And please don't let your kind heart grieve too
much--over me. I'm no deep-dyed villain in a melodrama, nor wicked lover
in a ten-penny novel, you know. I'm just an everyday man in real life;
and we're going to fight this thing out in everyday living. That's where
your help is coming in. We'll go together to see Mrs. Bertram Henshaw.
She's asked us to, and you'll do it, I know. We'll have music and
everyday talk. We'll see Mrs. Bertram Henshaw in her own home with her
husband, where she belongs; and--I'm not going to run again. But--