the
way to the bar for sentence. "Mr. Tetlow," he said, when they were shut
in together, "you are making a fool of yourself before the whole
office."

"Be a little patient with me, Mr. Norman," said the head clerk humbly.
"I've got another place for her. She's going to take it to-morrow.
Then--there'll be no more trouble."

Norman paled. "She wishes to leave?" he contrived to articulate.

"She spoke to me about leaving before I told her I had found her another
job."

Norman debated--but for only a moment. "I do not wish her to leave," he
said coldly. "I find her useful and most trustworthy."

Tetlow's eyes were fixed strangely upon him.

"What's the matter with you?" asked Norman, the under-note of danger but
thinly covered.

"Then she was right," said Tetlow slowly. "I thought she was mistaken. I
see that she is right."

"What do you mean?" said Norman--a mere inquiry, devoid of bluster or
any other form of nervousness.

"You know very well what I mean, Fred Norman," said Tetlow. "And you
ought to be ashamed of yourself."

"Don't stand there scowling and grimacing like an idiot," said Norman
with an amused smile. "What do you mean?"

"She told me--about your coming to see her--about your offer to do
something for her father--about your acting in a way that made her
uneasy."

For an instant Norman was panic-stricken. Then his estimate of her
reassured him. "I took your advice," said he. "I went to see for myself.
How did I act that she was made uneasy?"

"She didn't say. But a woman can tell what a man has in the back of his
head--when it concerns her. And she is a good woman--so innocent that
you ought to be ashamed of yourself for even thinking of her in that
way. God has given innocence instincts, and she felt what you were
about."

Norman laughed--a deliberate provocation. "Love has made a fool of you,
old man," he said.

"I notice you don't deny," retorted Tetlow shrewdly.

"Deny what? There's nothing to deny." He felt secure now that he knew
she had been reticent with Tetlow as to the happenings in the cottage.

"Maybe I'm wronging you," said Tetlow, but not in the tone of belief.
"However that may be, I know you'll not refuse to listen to my appeal. I
love her, Norman. I'm going to make her my wife if I can. And I ask
you--for the sake of our old friendship--to let her alone. I've no
doubt you could dazzle her. You couldn't make a bad woman of her. But
you could make her very miserable."