I was
your hired man. Just to see you through, from a distance, to know you were
all right, and--and not to lose sight of you. I--of course you can't
understand. I reckon no woman could. I don't wonder you're mad. I was dead
sure you would be. Yet I had to stand for it."

"It's the most extraordinary thing I ever heard," said Angela, working
herself up to be as angry as she ought to be. "That you should have left
New York, after being there only a few days, and--oh, it doesn't bear
thinking of! And I'd rather not believe it."

Again Nick wished to wave the name of Morehouse like a white flag of
truce, but the San Franciscan lawyer, lying far away in a New York
hospital, seemed too weak to flutter in the breeze of Mrs. May's
displeasure.

"I'd rather have jogged along without tellin' you this," he said. "But as
things worked out, it seemed as if I had to speak."

Angela was silent, busily thinking for a moment.

"Would you leave the train at the next stop, if I asked you?" she
inquired.

"No. I'd be real sorry, but I wouldn't do that, even if you asked." And
here was his chance to use Mr. Morehouse--a chance which might never come
again. "I was going to tell you, I _do_ know a man who's acquainted with
you, Mrs. May. We came East together. His name's Morehouse, and when he
was taken sick, I went to see him, and--and had a little talk--all the
nurses would let me have. I wanted him to write a note I could give you
in New Orleans, but he wasn't strong enough. He did say I could mention
his name when I told him I meant to go back West and look after you; but
somehow it never seemed the right time in New Orleans. And now, when I
began to explain how I inquired about you at the Valmont, as if it was
from Morehouse, you didn't----"

"I felt there could be no explanation I'd care to hear," Angela finished
for him. "I beg your pardon! Still I don't see why you should take Mr.
Morehouse's responsibilities on your shoulders--for my sake."

"No, you'll never see that," Nick sighed. "Only, if you could just see
your way to forgiving me, I should be mighty thankful. I promise to switch
off till you send for me. I'm in the next car to yours, if you should need
to--if there's anything I could do, between here and Los Angeles----"

"How do you know my journey ends there? Did Mr. Morehouse tell you that,
too?"

"When he and I were travelling East, he said Mrs. May had the notion to
see California; and I thought you'd be sure