nced him. He had a
habit of not letting his right hand know what his left was about in
such cases, and he detested a Pharisaical philanthropist. But there
was another reason why Caroline must not learn of his interest in the
Moriartys. If she did learn it, she would believe him to be helping them
on his own responsibility; or, if not, that he was using money belonging
to the estate. Of course he would, and honestly must, deny the latter
charge, and, therefore, the first would, to her mind, be proven. He
intended that Malcolm Dunn should pay the larger share of the bills, as
was right and proper. But he could not tell Caroline that, because she
must not know of the young man's responsibility for the accident. He
could not give Malcolm the credit, and he felt that he ought not to take
it himself. It was a delicate situation.

He was lonely, and the days seemed long. Reading the paper, walking in
the park, occasionally dropping in at the lawyers' offices, or visiting
the shops and other places of interest about town made up the monotonous
routine. He breakfasted early, waited upon by Edwards, got lunch at the
restaurant nearest to wherever he happened to be at noon, and returned
to the apartment for dinner. His niece and nephew dined with him, but
when he attempted conversation they answered in monosyllables or not at
all. Every evening he wrote a letter to Abbie, and the mail each morning
brought him one from her. The Dunns came frequently and seemed disposed
to be friendly, but he kept out of their way as much as possible.

Pearson he had not seen since the latter's call. This was a
disappointment, for he fancied the young fellow and believed he should
like him even better on closer acquaintance. He would have returned the
visit, but somehow or other the card with the boarding-house street and
number had been lost or mislaid, and the long list of "James Pearsons"
in the directory discouraged him. He speculated much concerning
the mystery at which the would-be novelist hinted as preventing his
accepting Caroline's invitation. Evidently Pearson had once known
Rodgers Warren well, and had been esteemed and respected by the latter.
Caroline, too, had known him, and was frankly pleased to meet him again.
Whatever the trouble might be, she, evidently, was ignorant of it. The
captain wondered and pondered, but reached no satisfactory conclusion.
It seemed the irony of fate that the one congenial person--Sylvester
excepted--who