d a finer gentleman than I can ever hope to be--my
father. It was he who inspired me to do that; he paid that debt."

From what Keith had heard, he felt that he was justified in going to see
Mrs. Wentworth. Possibly, it was not too late; possibly, he might be
able to do something to clear away the misapprehension under which she
labored, and to make up the trouble between her and Norman. Norman still
loved her dearly, and Keith believed that she cared for him. Lois
Huntington always declared that she did, and she could not have
been deceived.

That she had been foolish Keith knew; that she had been wicked he did
not believe. She was self-willed, vain, extravagant; but deep under her
cold exterior burned fires of which she had once or twice given him a
glimpse; and he believed that her deepest feeling was ever for Norman.

When he reached Mrs. Wentworth's house he was fortunate enough to find
her at home. He was shown into the drawing-room.

When Mrs. Wentworth entered the room, Keith was conscious of a change in
her since he had seen her last. She, too, had heard the clangor of the
evil tongues that had connected their names. She greeted him with
cordial words, but her manner was constrained, and her expression was
almost suspicious.

She changed, however, under Keith's imperturbable and unfeigned
friendliness, and suddenly asked him if he had seen Norman. For the
first time real interest spoke in her voice and shone in her face. Keith
said he had seen him.

"I have come to see if I could not help you. Perhaps, I may be able to
do something to set things right."

"No--it is too late. Things have gone too far. We have just
drifted--drifted!" She flung up her hands and tossed them apart with a
gesture of despair. "Drifted!" she repeated. She put her handkerchief to
her eyes.

Keith watched her in silence for a moment, and then rising, he seated
himself beside her.

"Come--this is all wrong--all wrong!" He caught her by the wrist and
firmly took her hand down from her eyes, much as an older brother might
have done. "I want to talk to you. Perhaps, I can help you--I may have
been sent here for the purpose--who knows? At least, I want to help you.
Now tell me." He looked into her face with grave, kind eyes. "You do not
care for Ferdy Wickersham? That would be impossible."

"No, of course not,--except as a friend,--and Norman liked another
woman--your friend!" Her eyes flashed a sudden flame.

"Never! never!" re