l of every doubt--"

"Well, of what?" He had appeared not quite to know how to put it. But
he saw at last. "Why, of what we may still hope to do for her. Thanks
to your care there were specimens." Then as she had the look of trying
vainly to focus a few, "I can't recover them one by one," he pursued,
"but the whole thing was quite lurid enough to do us all credit."

She met him after a little, but at such an odd point. "Pardon me if I
scarcely see how much of the credit was yours. For the first time since
I've known you, you went in for decency."

Mitchy's surprise showed as real. "It struck you as decency--?"

Since he wished she thought it over. "Oh your behaviour--!"

"My behaviour was--my condition. Do you call THAT decent? No, you're
quite out." He spoke, in his good nature, with an approach to reproof.
"How can I ever--?"

But it had already brought her quite round, and to a firmer earth that
she clearly preferred to tread. "Are things really bad with you, Mitch?"

"Well, I'll tell you how they are. But not now."

"Some other time?--on your honour?"

"You shall have it all. Don't be afraid."

She dimly smiled. "It will be like old times."

He rather demurred. "For you perhaps. But not for me."

In spite of what he said it did hold her, and her hand again almost
caressed him. "But--till you do tell me--is it very very dreadful?"

"That's just perhaps what I may have to get you to decide."

"Then shall I help you?" she eagerly asked.

"I think it will be quite in your line."

At the thought of her line--it sounded somehow so general--she released
him a little with a sigh, yet still looking round, as it were, for
possibilities. "Jane, you know, is in a state."

"Yes, Jane's in a state. That's a comfort!"

She continued in a manner to cling to him. "But is it your only one?"

He was very kind and patient. "Not perhaps quite."

"I'M a little of one?"

"My dear child, as you see."

Yes, she saw, but was still on the wing. "And shall you have
recourse--?"

"To what?" he asked as she appeared to falter.

"I don't mean to anything violent. But shall you tell Nanda?"

Mitchy wondered. "Tell her--?"

"Well, everything. I think, you know," Mrs. Brook musingly observed,
"that it would really serve her right."

Mitchy's silence, which lasted a minute, seemed to take the idea, but
not perhaps quite to know what to do with it. "Ah I'm afraid I shall
never really serve her right!"

Just as he spo