“Stop! Stop!” he implored, in dreadful anxiety. “Calm yourself! Never mind! Don’t tell me; only stop! Stop! Please, Minnie!” She couldn’t now. There in the road, where the Slav colony could hear her and coming rushing to witness, she had a frightful hysterical attack. Mr. Petersen sent someone after one of the old station hacks, and got her home at last. He was dripping with perspiration and altogether in a bad state when the doctor came; he was sure he had killed Minnie. She was not allowed to talk that night; a trained nurse came and took charge of her, and kept Petersen out of the room. He didn’t go to bed at all; he sat in his study, in dreadful anguish. In the morning the nurse came down and told him he might see his wife for a few minutes. He tried to compose himself; he soaked his great yellow head in cold water until his hair lay sleek as a seal; he swallowed a glass of brandy, but nothing helped him. He so dreaded what he might hear. Minnie loved that man. No matter what she said, she couldn’t make him doubt that. Her words, above all, her voice.... She must have been meeting that incredible, that unimaginable lover for weeks, feeding him.... He was not in the least angry at her. On the contrary he felt very, very sorry for her. But he did not want to see her, or to hear what she was going to say. If it were only possible for her to be restored to health and then to vanish! He couldn’t speak. He went over to her bedside and stood looking down at her. She was worn, pale, more troubled than ever. But she met his glance; she had not the look of a guilty woman. “You’ll have to be told now,” she said. “I wanted to wait--but I suppose you wouldn’t consent----?” “You needn’t tell me anything----” he began. She closed her eyes wearily. “You’d never trust me.... He’s my brother. We’ve never spoken of him ... he’s caused us a great deal of sorrow--disgrace, poor fellow. Through drinking. Father wouldn’t let us see him, or mention him. And Grandma was just as harsh. Even Frankie turned against him....” She paused a moment and feebly wiped the tears from her closed eyes. “But I’ve always seen so much good in him. I’ve always been so fond of him, poor fellow!... So much good--going to waste!” “But, Minnie, if you’d only spoken to me----” “I couldn’t. It wouldn’t have been fair to him. He’s very proud, in his way.” Mr. Petersen sat down beside her, and tried, in a long silence, to adjust himself to this. He was conscious of a great relief, a terrible burden being lifted from him. And a feeling of guilt in the presence of the poor little woman. How could he for an instant have suspected _Minnie_, respectable, conscientious, maternal Minnie, of having a lover! Filthy, vile, preposterous idea! “We’ll find a way to help your brother, my dear,” he said. She reached out a calloused and hot little hand and put it into his. “Chris,” she said, “what I want is to have him _here_. Under my eye. Where I can look after him. May I?”