Garry rose from his seat.

"All right," he answered assuming his old cheerful tone, "I'll go. I AM
tired, I guess, Cory, and bed's the best place for me. Good-night, old
man,--give my love to Ruth," and he followed his wife out of the room.

Jack waited until the two had turned to mount the stairs, caught a
significant flash from Garry's dark eyes as a further reminder of his
silence, and, opening the front door, closed it softly behind him.

Ruth was waiting for him. She had been walking the floor during the last
half hour peering out now and then into the dark, with ears wide open
for his step.

"I was so worried, my precious," she cried, drawing his cheek down to
her lips. "You stayed so long. Is it very dreadful?"

Jack put his arm around her, led her into the sitting-room and shut the
door. Then the two settled beside each other on the sofa.

"Pretty bad,--my darling--" Jack answered at last,--"very bad, really."

"Has he been drinking?"

"Worse,--he has been dabbling in Wall Street and may lose every cent he
has."

Ruth leaned her head on her hand: "I was afraid it was something awful
from the way Corinne spoke. Oh, poor dear,--I'm so sorry! Does she know
now?"

"She knows he's in trouble, but she doesn't know how bad it is. I
begged him to tell her, but he wouldn't promise. He's afraid of hurting
her--afraid to trust her, I think, with his sufferings. He's making an
awful mistake, but I could not move him. He might listen to you if you
tried."

"But he must tell her, Jack," Ruth cried in an indignant tone. "It
is not fair to her; it is not fair to any woman,--and it is not kind.
Corinne is not a child any longer;--she's a grown woman, and a mother.
How can she help him unless she knows? Jack, dear, look into my eyes;"
her face was raised to his;--"Promise me, my darling, that no matter
what happens to you you'll tell me first."

And Jack promised.

CHAPTER XXVII

When Jack awoke the next morning his mind was still intent on helping
Garry out of his difficulties. Where the money was to come from, and how
far even ten thousand dollars would go in bridging over the crisis, even
should he succeed in raising so large a sum, were the questions which
caused him the most anxiety.

A letter from Peter, while it did not bring any positive relief, shed a
ray of light on the situation:

I have just had another talk with the director of our bank--the one I
told you was interested in steel works in