ly healthy, though as a matter of fact I've had three or
four postmen on my list ... I'm afraid I interrupted you and Henrietta?"

"Oh, no!--Or rather, I imagine she was only too glad to be
interrupted.... I was telling her all my troubles, you see."

"Have you troubles? I'm sorry."

The man spoke in a light tone, such as is suitable for friendships. Yet
he must have felt a throe then, remembering his articles: now so soon to
go to the "Chronicle" office and the print that cried aloud. And the
girl's case, had he but known it, was like his own, only more so.
Beneath the cover of her casual talk, she was aware of thought coursing
like a palpitating vein under a fine skin, threatening to break through
at any minute....

"Oh, so many," said Cally.

They had remained standing, for to ask the doctor to sit down had not
occurred to her. The girl glanced toward the window.

"And what do you suppose Hen's prescription was?... That I should take
them all to you."

There was the briefest silence.

"But, of course, you didn't want to do that?"

She hesitated, and said: "Yes, I do want to ... But I can't."

That was the utmost that she meant to say. But then, as she glanced
again at the lame alien whom time had so beautifully justified, more of
her inner tide overflowed suddenly into speech.

"Do you know--I feel that I could tell you almost anything--things I
wouldn't tell Hen, or anybody.... Oh, I could, I don't know why. You
don't know for what a long time I've thought of you as my confidant, my
friend.... Only, you see--these troubles aren't all my own...."

She stopped rather precipitately, turned away a little; stood twisting a
glove between her fingers, and doing her best to show by her look that
she had not said anything in particular....

The thoughts of these two were over hills and dales apart; and yet, by
the nature of what was between them, they followed hard on the same
trail. V.V. was far from possessing the Cooneys' detective gift. He saw
only that this girl was troubled about something; and if his own thought
never left the Heth Works, it was only because this was the point where
his connection with her troubles cut him deep.

So in his ears chirped the voice of his now familiar: "Who appointed
_you_ a judge of people like this? Who knows better than you that
they're doing the best they can? Tear up that stuff!..."

But aloud he said only: "I understand that, of course. And I'm grateful
for the re