curtly.

When this had occurred once or twice Keith determined to see Norman and
have a full explanation. Accordingly, one day he went to his office.
Mr. Wentworth was out, but Keith said he would wait for him in his
private office.

On the table lay a newspaper. Keith picked it up to glance over it. His
eye fell on a marked passage. It was a notice of a dinner to which he
had been a few evenings before. Mrs. Wentworth's name was marked with a
blue pencil, and a line or two below it was his own name
similarly marked.

Keith felt the hot blood surge into his face, then a grip came about his
throat. Could this be the cause? Could this be the reason for Norman's
curtness? Could Norman have this opinion of him? After all these years!

He rose and walked from the office and out into the street. It was a
blow such as he had not had in years. The friendship of a lifetime
seemed to have toppled down in a moment.

Keith walked home in deep reflection. That Norman could treat him so was
impossible except on one theory: that he believed the story which
concerned him and Mrs. Wentworth. That he could believe such a story
seemed absolutely impossible. He passed through every phase of regret,
wounded pride, and anger. Then it came to him clearly enough that if
Norman were laboring under any such hallucination it was his duty to
dispel it. He should go to him and clear his mind. The next morning he
went again to Norman's office. To his sorrow, he learned that he had
left town the evening before for the West to see about some business
matters. He would be gone some days. Keith determined to see him as soon
as he returned.

Keith had little difficulty in assigning the scandalous story to its
true source, though he did Ferdy Wickersham an injustice in laying the
whole blame on him.

Meantime, Keith determined that he would not go to Mrs. Wentworth's
again until after he had seen Norman, even though it deprived him of the
chance of seeing Lois. It was easier to him, as he was very busy now
pushing through the final steps of his deal with the English syndicate.
This he was the more zealous in as his last visit South had shown him
that old Mr. Rawson was beginning to fail.

"I am just livin' now to hear about Phrony," said the old man, "--and to
settle with that man," he added, his deep eyes burning under his
shaggy brows.

Keith had little idea that the old man would ever live to hear of her
again, and he had told him so as ge