“How did you guess that?” asked Mrs. Crowdie, starting a little at the first words. “But I’m sorry if he has spoken to your mother about it--” She stopped suddenly, feeling that she had made a mistake. She was very nervous herself that evening, and as Griggs had said, she was anxious about her husband. There was no real foundation for her anxiety, but since her recent experience, she was very easily frightened. Crowdie had spoken excitedly to her about Ralston’s conduct at the club that afternoon, and she had fancied that there was something unusual in his look. “Oh, Hester, what is it?” asked Katharine, bending nearer to her and laying a hand on hers. “Don’t look so awfully frightened, dear!” Hester smiled, but not very naturally. “It’s nothing very serious. In fact, I believe it’s only that Walter saw him at the club late this afternoon and got the idea that he wasn’t--quite well.” “Not well? Is he ill? Where is he? At home?” Katharine asked the questions all in a breath, with no suspicion that Hester had softened the truth almost altogether into something else. “I suppose he’s at home, since he’s not here,” answered Mrs. Crowdie, wishing that she had said so at first and had said nothing more. “Oh, Hester! What is it? I know it’s something dreadful!” cried Katharine. “I shall go and ask Mr. Crowdie if you won’t tell me.” “Don’t!” exclaimed Mrs. Crowdie, so quickly and so loudly that the people near her turned to see what was the matter. “You’ve told me, now--he must be very ill, or you wouldn’t speak like that!” Katharine’s lips began to turn white, and she half rose from her seat. Mrs. Crowdie drew her back again very gently. “No, dear--no, I assure--I give you my word it’s not that, dear--oh, I’m so sorry I said anything!” Katharine yielded, and resumed her seat. “Hester, what is it?” she asked very gravely for the third time. “You’re my best friend--the only friend I have besides him. If it’s anything bad, I’d much rather hear it from you. But I can’t stand this suspense. I shall ask everybody until somebody tells me the truth.” Mrs. Crowdie seemed to reflect for a moment before answering, but even while she was thinking of what she should say, her passionate eyes sought for her husband’s pale face in the crowd--the pale face and the red lips that so many women thought repulsive. “Dear,” she said at last, “it’s foolish to make such a fuss and to frighten you. That sort of thing has happened to almost all men at one time or another--really, you know! You mustn’t blame Jack too much--” “For what? For what? Speak, Hester! Don’t try to--” “Katharine darling, Walter says that Jack was--well--you know--just a little far gone--and they had some trouble with him at the club. I don’t know--it seems that my brother tried to hold him for some reason or other--it’s not quite clear--and Jack threw Ham down, there in the hall of the club, before a lot of people--Katharine dearest, I’m so sorry I spoke!”