Florence dropped her chin into her hands. "To be frank with you, it was--the reverse; but I would rather not speak of it." She was silent for a moment. "You are right, though," she continued, rather recklessly, "when you say I'm afraid of him. I don't dare think of him, even. I want to forget he was ever a part of my life. He overwhelms me like sleep when I'm tired. I am helpless." Unconsciously Sidwell had stumbled upon the closet which held the skeleton. "And I--" he queried, "are you afraid of me?" The girl's great brown eyes peered out above her hands steadily. "No; with us it is not of you I'm afraid--it's of myself." She arose slowly. "I'm ready to go driving if you wish," she said. CHAPTER XX CLUB CONFIDENCES Late the same evening, in the billiard-room of the "Loungers Club" Clarence Sidwell met one Winston Hough, seemingly by chance, though in fact very much the reverse. Big and blonde, addicted to laughter, Hough was one of the few men with whom Sidwell fraternized,--why, only the Providence which makes like and unlike attract each other could have explained. However, it was with deliberate intent that Sidwell entered the most brilliantly lighted room in the place and sought out the group of which Hough was the centre. "Hello, Chad!" the latter greeted the new-comer. "I've just trimmed up Watson here, and I'm looking for new worlds to conquer. I'll roll you fifty points to see who pays for a lunch afterward." Sidwell smiled tolerantly. "I think it would be better for my reputation to settle without playing. Put up your stick and I'm with you." Hough shook his head. "No," he objected, "I'm not a Weary Willie. I prefer to earn my dole first. Come on." But Sidwell only looked at him. "Don't be stubborn," he said. "I want to talk with you." Hough returned his cue to the rack lingeringly. "Of course, if you put it that way there's nothing more to be said. As to the stubbornness, however--" He paused suggestively. Sidwell made no comment, but led the way directly toward the street. "What's the matter?" queried Hough, when he saw the direction they were taking. "Isn't the club grill-room good enough for you?" Sidwell pursued his way unmoved. "I said I wished to talk with you." "I guess I must be dense," Hough answered gayly. "I certainly never saw any house rules that forbid a man to speak." Sidwell looked at his companion with a whimsical expression. "The trouble isn't with the house rules but with you. A fellow might as well try to monopolize the wheat-pit on the board of trade as to keep you alone here. You're too confoundedly popular, Hough! You draw people as the proverbial molasses-barrel attracts flies." The big man laughed. "Your compliment, if that's what it was, is a bit involved, but I suppose it'll have to do. Lead on!" Sidwell sought out a modest little _cafe_ in a side street and selected a secluded booth. "What'll you have?" he asked, as the waiter appeared.