She was alone. The servant was not to be seen. “I was just going to make some tea for myself. Sit down.” She indicated an easy chair. “I don’t believe I care for any tea, thanks,” John said a little stiffly when she was ready to pour it. “No? Well, you smoke then. This is an age of nerves.” “I think I will, thank you.” John lighted a cigarette. “That’s right.” Miss Storms sipped her tea. “I hope I didn’t interrupt any business this morning when I called you up. I saw Lucy day before yesterday, and she frightened me. I never saw her looking so worn and harassed. She said she was well, but I couldn’t get her out of my mind.” “She has seemed nervous and----” John paused uncomfortably. “Irritable?” suggested Miss Storms, smiling kindly. “Yes, irritable,” admitted John, looking at his cigarette. “Lucy is a dear girl,” Miss Storms remarked. John smoked moodily. “I was thinking yesterday about the time when she was here. I shall always remember it and what a privilege and pleasure it was to have her. I did so miss her when she left me. She met you at my first little party for her, didn’t she?” John nodded his head. “And then the day you were married--she looked radiant. You know an old maid loves to watch things she can’t have.” This was the first time Miss Storms had ever spoken intimately to John. Without replying John lit another cigarette. It was not Miss Storms’s way to be devious. “I’m not asking you to confide in me, John,” she said, looking at him directly, “but something ought to be done.” “There is nothing to confide, Miss Storms,” he answered, still distantly. “Lucy seems to have gotten a case of nerves lately, that’s all. I have about decided to have a doctor look her over. I’m sure I’m quite as interested in her health as you are.” “Of course you are, more than I am,” agreed Miss Storms heartily, ignoring his tone, “but,” and her voice became grave, “I’m afraid you are the doctor, John.” “I know you are fond of Lucy, Miss Storms,” returned John, nettled, “and I appreciate your interest. But if you think I am responsible for her state of mind you are mistaken.” “If I had thought that I shouldn’t have asked you to come here,” was Miss Storms’s reply. “I know exactly who is to blame. And I realize that you are in almost as difficult a situation as Lucy. I have known a great deal of Mrs. Merwent for years.” “From others,” put in John. Miss Storms looked startled. “Yes, from others,” she admitted, gazing curiously at him, “but certainly enough to understand some things.”