“Thank you, sir,” he said, and turned away, down the hall toward the back stairs. And, as he came round the corner into the corridor, where the housekeeper’s room was, his quick ear caught some words of such remarkable personal interest to him that he stood still. “Another James Ross!” Mrs. Jones was saying. “That’s a likely story, I must say! Amy, that man’s a fraud and a spy!” “No, Nanna darling, he’s not!” answered Amy, with sweet obstinacy. “I tell you he is, child. He’s got to go.” “No, dear,” said Amy. “He’s going to help me.” “Amy!” cried Mrs. Jones. “Can’t you trust me? I tell you it’s all right. He won’t come tonight. I promise you he won’t!” “Oh, you mean well!” Amy remarked. “But you’ve made plenty of mistakes before this.” “Amy, I promise you—” “No,” said Amy. “You told me before that I needn’t worry, that you’d ‘settled everything.’ And what happened? No; I’m afraid you’re getting old, Nanna—old and stupid. I’m going to manage for myself now. And Jimmy’s going to help me.” “Child!” Mrs. Jones protested. “That man will ferret out—” “I don’t care if he does,” said Amy. “He won’t tell, anyhow. Now don’t bother me any more, Nanna. I’ve simply got to go.” Ross stepped quickly backward along the hall for a few yards; then he went forward again, with a somewhat heavier tread. And just round the corner of the corridor, he came face to face with Amy. Her beauty almost took his breath away. She wore a dress of white and silver, and round her slender throat a short string of pearls. And against all this gleaming white the pallor of her skin was rich and warm, with a tint almost golden; and her misty hair was like a cloud about her face, and her black eyes so soft, so limpid. “Jimmy!” she whispered. “Do I look nice?” “Er—yes; very nice,” Ross answered stiffly. She came close to him, put her hand on his shoulder. “Please, Jimmy!” she said, earnestly. “I do so awfully want to be happy—just for a little while!” Ross had a moment of weakness. She was so young, so lovely; it seemed important, even necessary, that she should be happy. But he valiantly resisted the spell. “Who doesn’t?” he inquired. “Jimmy, dear!” she said. “I’m coming to the garage after dinner—to ask you something—to beg you to do something. Will you do it, my _dear_ little Jimmy?” “I’ll have to hear what it is first,” said Ross. But she seemed satisfied. X Ross went up to the room over the garage, and sat down there. He was hungry and tired, and in no pleasant humor.