training-camp, Frank Woods came back, and this time
there was no mistaking whom he had picked out for his attentions.
Until the war was over and Jim home, it was not noticeable, for he was
most meticulous in his behavior, but with Jim busy trying to straighten
out our tangled practise, Woods lost no time in taking advantage of his
opportunities. And there had been opportunities enough, heaven knows,
with Jim surrounded by clients, yet trying in his clumsy, lovable way
to remonstrate with Helen for seeing so much of Woods. My interference
had only increased his opportunities, for the evening I told her what
people were saying, she quarreled with Jim, and as a result he threw
himself into his work with an energy in which enthusiasm had no part.

All the time these thoughts were running through my head--and they ran
much faster than I can set them down--I had been throwing my clothes
on, knowing something had to be done, yet what that something was I
couldn't for the life of me figure out.

"Come on, Jim!" I said, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him from
his dejected position.

"Where to?" he responded wearily.

"First of all, we're going to shut this thing up. _The Sun_ would like
nothing better than to spread it thick all over the front page of their
filthy sheet."

"You're right, old boy! I'd forgotten about the newspapers. It would
be horrible for Helen to have her name dragged through the mud."

"I wasn't thinking of Helen," I responded testily, "but a lot of cheap
notoriety won't help our law practise any."

All the spirit seemed to have seeped out of his system, so I pushed him
into my car, preferring to take the wheel rather than have him drive.
I can always think better when I have a steering wheel in my hands, and
knowing with what speed Jim drove ordinarily, I didn't care to trust my
precious body to him in his overwrought condition.

We were just backing into the drive when one of the servants came
running from the club.

"Oh, Mr. Thompson!" he called.

I stopped the car and waited for him to come up.

"What is it?"

"You're wanted on the telephone."

I jumped from the car and started for the club. There were the usual
groups of tea-drinkers and bridge-players scattered about on the broad
veranda, and it seemed to me, as I ran up the steps, that they all
stopped talking and looked at me, I thought, with curiosity, if not
with pity. There would be no use shutting up the newspapers if t