e knew that the subject under discussion was Harold Phipps,
and that Rose's arraignment was meeting with indignant denial and
protest. But the fact that Rose could offer specific evidence that would
shake the staunchest confidence gave him grim satisfaction.

He stumbled into his own small room, and lay across the bed looking up at
the shadows made by the street lamp on the ceiling. Would Miss Nell
believe what she heard? Would it go very hard with her? Would she give
Phipps up? Would she accept Madam's offer? And, if she did, would she
ever be willing to come home again?

Then his thoughts swerved away from all those perplexing questions and
went racing back over the events of the day. For nine blissful hours he
had had Eleanor all to himself. They had taken a day-coach to avoid
meeting any one she knew, and he had managed to secure a rear seat, out
of the range of curious eyes. Here she had poured out all her troubles,
allowing the accumulated bitterness of years to find vent in a torrent of
unrestrained confidence.

She recalled the days of her unhappy childhood, when she had been fought
over and litigated about and contended for, until the whole world seemed
a place of hideous discord and petty jealousies. She pictured her
circumscribed life at the Bartletts', shut in, watched over, smothered
with care and affection, but never allowed an hour of freedom. She dwelt
on the increasing tyranny of her grandmother, the objection to her
friends, the ruthless handling of several prospective lovers. And she
ended by telling him all about her affair with Harold Phipps, and
declaring that nothing they could say or do would make her give him up!
And then, quite worn out, she had fallen asleep and her head had drooped
against his shoulder.

Quin could feel now the delicious weight of her limp body as she leaned
against him. He had sat so still, in his fear of waking her, that his arm
had been numb for an hour. Then, later on, when she did wake up, he had
got her some cold water to bathe her face, and persuaded her to eat a
sandwich and drink a glass of milk. After that she had felt much better,
and even cheered up enough to laugh at the way he looked in the queer cap
the obliging stranger had given him.

"I could make her happy! I know I could make her happy!" he whispered
passionately to the shadows on the ceiling. "She don't love me now; but
maybe when she gets over this----"

His thoughts leaped to the future. He must b