.

"Naw--of course not," answered Fenn. "Boy, you don't know anything about
women."

Fenn shook his head knowingly, and winked one eye slowly.
"Children--she's set the children on me. You know, Grant--" he turned
his smile on with what candlepower he could muster, "that's my other
weakness--children. And they're the nicest children in the world. But I
can't--I tell you, man, I can't," protested Mr. Fenn, as if he believed
Grant in league with the woman to kidnap him.

"Well, then, don't," said Grant, rising and gathering up his mail.

"But how can I help it?" Fenn cried helplessly. "What can a man do?
Those kids need a father. I need a family--I've always needed a
family--but I don't want Violet--nor any one else." Grant towed him
along to the restaurant, and they sat alone. After Grant had ordered his
supper he asked, "Henry--why can't you marry Violet? She's a sensible,
honest woman--she's got over her foolishness; what's wrong with her?"

"Why, of course, she is a good woman. If you'd see her chasing out
nights--picking up girls, mothering 'em, loving 'em, working with
'em--she knows their language; she can talk to 'em so they get it. And
I've known her time and again to get scent of a new girl over there at
Bessie Wilson's and go after her and pull her out and start her right
again. I tell you, Grant, Violet has her weaknesses--as to hair ribbons
and shirtwaists and frills for the kids--but she's got a heart, Grant--a
mighty big heart."

"Then why not marry her?" persisted Grant.

"That's just it," answered Fenn.

He looked hopelessly at Grant and finally said as he reached his hands
across the table and grasped Grant's big flinty paw, "Grant--let me tell
you something--it's Margaret. I'm a fool--a motley fool i' the forest,
Grant, but I can't help it; I can't help it," he cried. "So long as she
lives--she may need me. I don't trust that damn scoundrel, Grant. She
may need me, and I stand ready to go to hell itself with her if I live a
thousand years. It's not that I want her any more; but, Grant--maybe you
know her; maybe you understand. She used to hate you for some reason,
and maybe that will help you to know how I feel. But--I know I'm
weak--God knows I'm putty in my soul. And I'm ashamed. But I mustn't get
married. It wouldn't be fair. It wouldn't be square to Violet, nor the
kids, nor to any one. So long as Margaret is on this earth--it's my job
to stand guard and wait till she needs me."

He turned