in charge of the California
office, considerable sums of money. By careful management, he had
increased his takings to an amount that would be a comfortable fortune
for himself and the squatter girl. There had been no break between him
and Madelene, but he had persuaded himself she would be glad to separate
from him. It was too late to do anything about it tonight, though.
Tomorrow, or the next day, he'd take his dear ones away.

As soon as they were settled in some distant city and were secure from
the elder's wrath, he'd write Madelene. He chuckled grimly to himself at
the thought of their rage when they learned of her anomalous position as
his unmarried wife.

Then, his fancy played about the home he'd have. He pictured Tess moving
through the rooms in the intimacies of domestic life. Almost, so vivid
the picture his passion painted, he held her in his arms. He'd do
wonderful things for the boy. He should have the best education
possible! Lost in his dreams, the time slipped rapidly away, and he
found himself, all at once, in front of his brother-in-law's brilliantly
lighted home.

When he came into the great hall, Madelene hurried out of the library to
meet him. She presented a cool cheek for the customary kiss of greeting
and helped him out of his extra wraps.

"Take off your coat, dear, and come into the library," she urged. "The
man told you about Elsie? But Eb's sure to find her. I'll see about
something to eat while you're getting thawed out."

She bustled off to the kitchen and her husband went into the library and
dropped into a chair before the grate.

When Madelene came back, she stopped by the table impressed, suddenly,
by the pathetic weariness of his appearance. The change in him startled
her and reawakened all the love she'd ever felt for him. In addition,
there was, in her affection for the sick man, an element of maternal
devotion, as though the unsatisfied desires of her empty arms demanded
him. She crossed the room and seated herself on the arm of his chair.

"Fred, dear," she said, "you must have had an awful trip. Now, that I
have you home again, I'm going to look after you, myself."

One after another, she noted the symptoms of decay and dissolution
presented. His clothes no longer fitted but hung, bag-like, upon his
emaciated frame. His shoulders were stooped and his chest sunken. The
high linen collar he'd always been so particular about, no longer set
close to a shapely neck, but sagg