!"

"Or, possibly," the physician continued, "that you have become a
victim to the alcohol or one of the drug habits. I don't see the
signs of that sort of thing upon you, yet. But--well, if such is your
misfortune, I wish, Felix, that you would confide in me. Such habits
are curable and even if my other hypothesis, which your physical
appearance has forced me to, should be true we might be able to find
its cause in some nerve lesion susceptible of remedy. In either case,
you know as well as I do, Felix, that there is disaster before you,
physical, moral and mental, if you keep on. Make a clean breast of it,
and I'll do my best to help you."

Again the temptation was assailing the architect's mind to accept this
proffered help and shift his burden to the shoulders of this little
but puissant man of healing. Perhaps those tapping fingers could make
him whole again. But as he faced avowal of the truth his whole soul
drew back. It was impossible--the one thing he could not do. Then came
another idea, perhaps a way out.

"Suppose--I do not admit it, but suppose, for the sake of
your argument, that your hypothesis should be true. What
then--Mildred--what about----"

Dr. Annister sprang to his feet and broke in upon the other's
stumbling words in a voice whose low-toned intensity gave his listener
an uncomfortable thrill: "Nothing could make me happier than to see my
child the happy wife of the man she loves, if he deserves her love.
But I'd rather see her dead than married to a man of gross and unclean
life, who has made himself a slave to seasons of secret debauch!"

There was silence for a moment while Brand looked away, unwilling to
meet the physician's eyes. His face was pale and he breathed as if
there were a weight upon his chest. Again he was considering open
confession. But when he spoke he said:

"Dr. Annister, you are most unjust. I told you the truth about my
absence. On that question there is nothing more to be said. But it is
my right to know, and I insist upon knowing, whether or not you have
any basis whatever for these insinuations you have been making, except
your own suspicions."

Mildred's father gazed thoughtfully at her betrothed for a moment
before he replied. He was saying to himself that the man's words were
candid enough in their import, but that, somehow, the speech had not
rung true. There was no spark of indignation in those brown eyes, that
seemed to have some difficulty in meeting his.