t getting along quite so well."

"He's better this morning, thanks," said Cora, preparing to close
the door.

"I thought I'd just stop and ask about him. I heard he'd had
another bad spell--kind of a second stroke."

"That was night before last. The doctor thinks he's improved very
much since then."

The door was closing; he coughed hastily, and detained it by
speaking again. "I've called several times to inquire about him,
but I believe it's the first time I've had the pleasure of
speaking to you, Miss Madison. I'm Mr. Pryor." She appeared to
find no comment necessary, and he continued: "Your father did a
little business for me, several years ago, and when I was here on
my vacation, this summer, I was mighty sorry to hear of his
sickness. I've had a nice bit of luck lately and got a second
furlough, so I came out to spend a couple of weeks and
Thanksgiving with my married daughter."

Cora supposed that it must be very pleasant.

"Yes," he returned. "But I was mighty sorry to hear your father
wasn't much better than when I left. The truth is, I wanted to
have a talk with him, and I've been reproaching myself a good deal
that I didn't go ahead with it last summer, when he was well, only
I thought then it mightn't be necessary--might be disturbing
things without much reason."

"I'm afraid you can't have a talk with him now," she said. "The
doctor says----"

"I know, I know," said Pryor, "of course. I wonder"--he hesitated,
smiling faintly--"I wonder if I could have it with you instead."

"Me?"

"Oh, it isn't business," he laughed, observing her expression.
"That is, not exactly." His manner became very serious. "It's
about a friend of mine--at least, a man I know pretty well. Miss
Madison, I saw you driving out through the park with him,
yesterday noon, in an automobile. Valentine Corliss."

Cora stared at him. Honesty, friendliness, and grave concern were
disclosed to her scrutiny. There was no mistaking him: he was a
good man. Her mouth opened, and her eyelids flickered as from a
too sudden invasion of light--the look of one perceiving the close
approach of a vital crisis. But there was no surprise in her face.

"Come in," she said.

* * *

. . . . When Corliss arrived, at about eleven o'clock that
morning, Sarah brought him to the library, where he found Cora
waiting for him. He had the air of a man determined to be cheerful
under adverse conditions: he came in briskly, and Cora clo