his to do with to-night?"

Maurice took up the thread of his narrative again, telling how Ephie
had waited vainly for news since returning from Switzerland, and how
she had only learnt that afternoon that Schilsky had been in Leipzig,
and had gone away again, without seeing her, or letting her know that
he did not intend to return.

"And how did she hear it?"

"At a friend's house."

"What friend?"

"A friend of mine, a--No; I had better be frank with you: the girl this
fellow was engaged to for a year or more."

"And Ephie did not know that?"

He shook his head.

"But you knew, and yet took her there?"

It was a hopeless job to try to exonerate himself. "Yes, there were
reasons--I couldn't help it, in fact. But I'm afraid I should not be
able to make you understand."

"No, never!" retorted Johanna, and squared her shoulders.

But there was more to be said--she had worse to learn before Ephie was
handed over to her care.

"And Ephie has been very foolish," he began anew, without looking at
her. "It seems--from what she has told me tonight--that she has been to
see this man ... been at his rooms ... more than once."

At first, he was certain, Johanna did not grasp the meaning of what he
said; she turned a blank face curiously to him. But, a moment later,
she gave a low cry, and hardly able to form the words for excitement,
asked: "Who ... what ... what kind of a man was he--this ... Schilsky?"

"Rotten," said Maurice; and she did not press him further. He heard her
breath coming quickly, and saw the kind of stiffening that went through
her body; but she kept silence, and did not speak again till they were
almost at his house-door. Then she said, in a voice that was hoarse
with feeling: "It has been all my fault. I did not take proper care of
her. I was blind and foolish. And I shall never be able to forgive
myself for it--never. But that Ephic--my little Ephie--the child
I--that Ephie could ... could do a thing like this ..." Her voice
tailed off in a sob.

Maurice struck matches, to light her up the dark staircase; and the
condition of the stairs, the disagreeable smells, the poverty of wall
and door revealed, made Johanna's heart sink still further: to
surroundings such as these had Ephie accustomed herself. They entered
without noise; everything was just as Maurice had left it, except that
the lamp had burned too high and filled the room with its fumes. As
Johanna paused, undecided what to do, Ephi