“Say, Professor, the devil will be to pay again. That Mrs. Marian is back. Got here on the same train Funnybone came on. And,” lowering his voice, “he will be over there again,” pointing toward the west bluffs. “He'll hound Funnybone to his doom yet. And she--she'll stand between 'em to the last. I told you one of the two human traits left in that beast is his fool fondness for that woman who wouldn't let him set foot on her ground if she knew it. It's a grim tragedy being played out here with nobody knowing but you and me.” “Saxon, I'm in no mood for all this tonight,” Burgess said, “but for your daughter's sake keep away from the man's bottle now.” “Yes, for Dennie's sake--” Bond looked imploringly at Burgess. “Yes, yes, I'll do my duty as I promised. But why not do it yourself toward her? Why not be a man and a father?” “Me! A criminal! Do you know what that kind of slavery is?” Saxon whispered. “Almost,” Burgess answered, but the old man did not catch his meaning. Dennie was waiting in the parlor, a cosy little room but without the luxurious appointments of Norrie Wream's home. Yet tonight Dennie seemed beautiful to Burgess, and this quiet little room, a haven of safety. “Dennie,” he said, plunging into his purpose at once. “I come to you because I need a friend and you are tempered steel.” Tonight Dennie's gray eyes were dark and shining. The rippling waves of yellow brown hair gave a sort of Madonna outline to her face, and there was about her something indefinably pleasant. “What can I do for you, Professor Burgess?” she asked. “Listen to me, Dennie, and then advise me.” Was this the acting-dean of Sunrise, a second Fenneben, already declared? His face was full of pathos, yet even in his feverish grief it seemed a better face to Dennie than the cold scholarly countenance of two years ago. “My troubles go back a long way. My father was given to greed. He sold himself and my sister's happiness and mine for money. You think your father is a slave, Dennie, because he has a craving for whisky. Less than half a dozen times a year the demon inside gets him down.” Dennie looked up with a sorrowful face. “Yes, but think of what he might do. You don't know what dreadful things he has done--” “Yes, I do. He told me himself the very worst. I'll never betray him, Dennie. His punishment is heavy enough.” Burgess laid his hand on her dimpled hand in token of sincerity.