“Dr. Shayle says that I ought to go away somewhere for a change of air and scene,” she continued after a moment, in a lower, more pathetic voice. “I was hesitating, in my mistaken viewpoint, feeling that I shouldn’t leave you in the house alone just at this time. But after what you’ve said to me I see that you’d be glad to have me go. I’ll start to-morrow for--for somewhere--anywhere.” Soon her sobs allowed her to add: “And I’ll think things over while I’m gone, dear. Perhaps, when I get used to your idea, it won’t sound so brutal as it does to-day. I just _might_ come to see it more your way. Or perhaps you will miss me enough to--to----” He realized that she was giving him every chance, but still failed to improve it. With only a reproachful glance for his lack of generosity, she changed the subject. “I want to speak to you about one thing in particular. It’s Miss Trent. As you may know, I have conceived an unusual affection for her. I don’t feel that we should send a young creature of her beauty and fatal charm out into the world again. On account of her devotion to Jackie and the wonderfully good influence she exerted over him, I feel the responsibility of seeing her safely settled, either with us or elsewhere. She is really quite refined. And how her looks came out in that evening dress I--we gave her! For one, I don’t intend that the he-wolves outside shall get on the trail again of a girl who was so dear to our--our boy.” “Your sentiments do you proud, Catherine.” “Don’t be sarcastic, John. You may think I have no heart, but there are people who wouldn’t agree with you. Dolores, for instance. I show her every day my appreciation for what she did for Jack.” “And I intend to show mine,” John inserted quietly, “by some suitable arrangement and provision. Jack’s last request was that I look out for her. I, too, have a high opinion of Miss Trent.” “Then do, John, unbend toward her! You treat her--really--like a servant in the house. It offends my finer sensibilities to see how afraid the poor thing is of you. You can’t doubt her devotion to the boy. Try to realize, as I do, that her heart is aching for him almost as much as our own. Be kinder to her while I’m gone, won’t you, John?” “Don’t worry. I shall be kind to her.” “I do thank you for that promise. You’re a dear. I should have worried for fear you’d hurt her hyper-sensitive feelings in some way--as--as you’ve hurt mine. You see, she has agreed to stay on in the house at least until I get back. I’ve made her believe that I need someone above Morrison to look after things in my place.” “In that case,” said John, “I shall move to one of the clubs.” “Oh, no,” she protested. “Dolores would suspect that you had been driven out of your home and be most uncomfortable. It isn’t at all necessary for you to go.” “Pardon me. I think it is.”