'Yes, I know. And I know this town. They're very conservative. They watch new people. They're watching you. Like cats. And they'll gossip. I know that too. I've suffered from it. Things that aren't so. But what do they care? They'd spoil your whole life--like that!--and go to the Country Club early to get the best dances. Oh, I know, I tell you. You've got to be careful. It isn't what I say, but you've _got_ to! Or they'll find out, and they won't stop till they've hounded you out of town, and driven him to--this--for good, and broken her--your niece's--heart.' He stopped, out of breath. The fire that had flamed from his eyes died down, leaving them like gray ashes. Confusion smote him. He shifted his feet; turned his hat round and round between his hands. What--_what_--had he been saying! Then he heard her voice, saying only this:-- 'In a way--in a way--you have a right.... God knows it won't.... So much at stake.... Perhaps it had to be said.' He felt that he had better retreat. Emotions were rising, and he was gulping them down. He knew now that he couldn't speak again; not a word. She stood aside. 'It was very good of you,' she said. But he rushed past her and down the stairs. Humphrey, when he awoke in the morning, remembered dimly his temperamental young partner, a dishevelled, rather wild figure, bending over him, shaking him and saying, 'Gimme fifteen dollars! I'll explain to-morrow. Gosh, but I'm a wreck! You've no idea!' And he remembered drawing to him the chair on which his clothes were piled and fumbling in various pockets for money. 8 When Henry awoke, at ten, he found himself alone in the rooms. The warm sunshine was streaming in, the university clock was booming out the hour. Then the mellow church bells set up their stately ringing. He lay for a time drowsily listening. Then the bells brought recollections. Madame Watt, and Cicely, and often the Senator attended the First Presbyterian Church. Right across the alley, facing on Filbert Avenue. By merely turning his head, Henry could see the rear gable of the chapel and the windows of the Sunday-school room. He sprang out of bed. His blue serge coat was spotted. From the table in that bar-room, doubtless. He found a bottle of ammonia and sponged. It was also in need of a pressing, but he could do nothing about that now. He had to go to church. No other course was thinkable. If only to sit where he could catch a glimpse now and then of her profile. He heard a knock downstairs, but at first ignored it. No one would be coming here of a Sunday morning. Finally he went down. There, on the step, immaculately dressed, rather weary looking with dark areas under red eyes, stood Senator Watt. 'How do you do,' said he, with dignity. 'Won't you come in?' said Henry. They mounted the stairs. The Senator sat stiffly on a small chair. Henry took the piano stool. 'I understand that you did me a very great service last night, Mr Calverly.'