“No, he never said a single word about it or I would have come, of course. What do you think, then, keeps him in town so late?” Something in her voice made Jack leave his own and take a seat beside her. “Tell me, Corinne. I'll do anything I can for Garry and you too. What is it?” “I don't know, Jack,--I wish I did. He has changed lately. When I went to his room the other night he was walking the floor; he said he couldn't sleep, and the next morning when he didn't come down to breakfast I went up and found him in a half stupor. I had hard work to wake him. Don't tell Ruth,--I don't want anybody but you to know, but I wish you'd come and see him. I've nobody else to turn to,--won't you, Jack?” “Come! of course I'll come, Corinne,--now,--this minute, if he's home, or to-night, or any time you say. Suppose I go back with you and wait. Garry's working too hard, that's it,--he was always that way, puts his whole soul into anything he gets interested in and never lets up until it's accomplished.” He waited for some reply, but she was still toying with the handle of her parasol. Her mind had not been on his proffered help,--she had not heard him, in fact. “And, Jack,” she went on in the same heart-broken tone through which an unbidden sob seemed to struggle. “Yes, I am listening, Corinne,--what is it?” “I want you to forgive me for the way I have always treated you. I have--” “Why, Corinne, what nonsense! Don't you bother your head about such--” “Yes, but I do, and it is because I have never done anything but be ugly to you. When you lived with us I--” “But we were children then, Corinne, and neither of us knew any better. I won't hear one word of such nonsense. Why, my dear girl--“he had taken her hand as she spoke and the pair rested on his knee--“do you think I am--No--you are too sensible a woman to think anything of the kind. But that is not it, Corinne--something worries you;” he asked suddenly with a quick glance at her face. “What is it? You shall have the best in me, and Ruth will help too.” Her fingers closed over his. The touch of the young fellow, so full of buoyant strength and hope and happiness, seemed to put new life into her. “I don't know, Jack.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “There may not be anything, yet I live under an awful terror. Don't ask me;--only tell me you will help me if I need you. I have nobody else--my stepfather almost turned me out of his office when I went to see him the other day,--my mother doesn't care. She has only been here half a dozen times, and that was when baby was born. Hush,--here comes Ruth,--she must not know.”