-and I declare I don't know what
Mrs. Curtis will say. He just _wouldn't_ eat, and this morning he up and
died--and me offering him a chop!" Bridget wept with real distress.
"Mrs. Houghton, please tell her we done our best; he just smelled his
chop--and died. You see, he hasn't eat a thing, without she gave it to
him, for--oh, more 'n a month!"

Mary Houghton went into the library, where the fire was out, and the
dust on tables and chairs bore witness to the fact that Bridget had
devoted herself to Bingo; the room was gloomy, and smelled of soot.
Little Bingo lay, stiff and chill, on the sofa; on a plate beside him
was a chop rimmed in cold grease,--poor little, loving, jealous, old
Bingo! "I hope it won't upset Mrs. Curtis," Mrs. Houghton told the maid;
then gave directions about the stark little body. She found the letter
in Eleanor's desk, and went back to Mrs. Newbolt's. "Love," she thought,
"_is_ as strong as death; stronger! Bingo--and Eleanor."

CHAPTER XXXV

Maurice, followed by telegrams that never quite overtook him, did, some
forty-eight hours later, get the news that Eleanor had "had an
accident," and was at Mrs. Newbolt's, who thought he had "better return
immediately." His business was not quite finished, but it did not need
Mr. Weston's laconic wire, "Drop Greenleaf matters and come back," to
start him on the next train for Mercer. He had been away nearly two
weeks--two terrible weeks, of facing himself; two weeks of rebellion,
and submission; of tumultuous despair and quiet acceptance. He had
looked faithfully--and very shrewdly--into the "Greenleaf matters"; he
had turned one or two sharp corners, with entirely honest cleverness,
and he was taking back to Mercer some concessions which old Weston had
slipped up on! Yes, he had done a darned good job, he told himself,
lounging in the smoking compartment of one parlor car or another, or
strolling up and down station platforms for a breath of air. And all the
while that he was on the Greenleaf job--in Pullmans, sitting in hotel
lobbies writing letters, looking through title and probate records--his
own affairs raced and raged in his thoughts; they were summed up in one
word: "Edith." He could not get away from Edith! He tripped a Greenleaf
trustee into an admission (and he thought, "so long as she never
suspects that I love her, there's no harm in going along as we always
have"). Then he conceded a point to the Greenleaf interests (and said to
hi