"She is well; as well as can be expected. It is not your fault that she did not die years ago. She was four years getting over that trouble of hers. You laughed at her headaches, you remember. She was four years in Doctor Galen's sanitarium." He waved his hand lightly, as of old. "A little misunderstanding, Sally, which I greatly regret. But four years of Doctor Galen! How did you manage to pay him?" "That," replied Sally, "cannot possibly be any concern of yours." "Ah, true. It is not any concern of mine. But is it not possible to see your mother? She is still my wife, I presume, and you are still my daughter." "She is still your wife and I am your daughter. But you shall not see her if I can prevent it." "And--I gather from the tenor of your remarks that you would resist any attempt at--er--reuniting a family long separated by circumstances." Sally smiled disdainfully. "I am of age. As to my mother, I should resist. No court would compel it." "Ah," he said, smiling, "how well you meet my points! You are of age, and no doubt you are right about the courts. There is no law that will prohibit my trying, I think. And Charlie is not of age, if my recollection serves me." Before Sally could frame an answer, there was a slight noise in the hall and Charlie burst in. "I beg your pardon," he said hastily. The two were standing, and he had not recognized Sally. But an instant's gaze was enough. "Sally!" he exclaimed. He looked at the man. A wave of red rushed into his face. "Charlie!" he cried involuntarily. Then he recovered. "What are you doing here? What do you mean by coming to see my sister?" Sally was inexpressibly distressed. She started to speak. She would have said something--told him the truth, of course--to save them both; but a quiet movement of her father's hand stopped her. He seemed to be waiting patiently for the next stone. "Do you know, Sally," Charlie continued, "who this man is? He is the dealer in number seven. He has no right--no business to try to see you. I insist on his leaving at once." Sally spoke with surprising gentleness, considering her mode of speech to her father only a few minutes before. "We have some business, Charlie," she said. "He will go as soon as that is done. Now, leave us, please, to finish it, for we have not a great deal of time. It is all right." And Charlie withdrew slowly, with many a glance from one to the other and many a misgiving as to the business which seemed to be of so private a nature. They heard his steps retreating down the hall. Sally turned her shocked face to her father, "Won't you sit down?" she asked gently. "I am very sorry; sorrier than I can tell you--for--everything, but especially for that speech of Charlie's. But Charlie did not know."