"Don't trouble yourself. I'm not wanting medical advice just now," said Stanley. In his confusion, Hemming blushed guiltily, and left the telephone, and the shop, without a word. As he passed into the street, he heard Stanley laughing with the cashier, very likely explaining his action as that of a harmless idiot. Hemming made all speed to Washington Square. O'Rourke had not yet returned, but on a scrap of paper among his manuscripts he found Tarmont's address. With the help of a cab, he was soon in that gentleman's studio. But, to his disgust, he found that he was not the only visitor. Half a dozen men were lounging on the wide divans, smoking. Hemming managed to get Tarmont away from the crowd. "Have you seen Stanley to-day?" he asked. "Not since last night. Why?" "He is mad as a hatter. Thinks he is entertaining some dead sailor in his rooms." "Heavens!" exclaimed the artist. "He talked rather wildly about several things," said Hemming, "and quoted you concerning a girl in England--and me." "He may have heard me speaking of it," returned Tarmont, defiantly. "He was here last night." "Why didn't you tell me?" asked the Englishman. "It was just country-house gossip," replied the artist, "and I hardly thought you would thank me. I imagined you were old enough to know your own business best." "It was country-house gossip, and now you have made studio gossip of it," said Hemming, tartly. "I am very sorry," said Tarmont, honestly. CHAPTER VI. THE BACHELOR UNCLE TO THE RESCUE The years since Hemming's departure had brought little of joy to Molly Travers. At first anger at herself had occupied her mind. Then had come a short-lived anger toward Hemming for not writing or returning. Now she looked at life with a calm heartlessness. When she learned the true story of Penthouse a white fury entered into her, and she knew that there was not a person in the world whom she would now trust,--save Hemming, the man who despised her. Her mother tried to comfort her; tried to reason with her; tried to soothe her with platitudes and eligible suitors. For her pains, the poor woman was snubbed. So were the suitors--at first. But, as the seasons wore around, with no word of love or forgiveness from the man whose love she had tramped on, Miss Travers decided to take her revenge on the world. She took it daintily, and the world hardly knew what she was about. First, and always, there was Anderson. At first, love for the girl, and loyalty for his friend, struggled hard within him. Love won against loyalty. Then he found that she did not care. He was of a hopeful disposition, and continued to make a fool of himself even to the last, as you shall see. There were others,--a subaltern, a lawyer, the son of a colonial premier, and a baronet. It was always so cleverly done that not one of them could lay the blame on her. Tarmont, the young artist, was the first to understand. He saved himself just in time.