She was in no mood to make conversation, and walked by my side for a while without speaking. But there was such an air of confidence in her manner, such unspoken expression of comradeship in her attitude, that I was content to follow her example and find satisfaction in the silent communion and feel delight at the pressure of her hand upon my arm. We had walked a few blocks thus before she said, with an abruptness that startled me: "Tell me about to-day." I had been thinking of far more agreeable things than business, but I recovered myself from the momentary confusion into which I was thrown, and replied: "It was a very lively day indeed." And, once started, I described, with such entertaining details as I could recall, some of the incidents of our struggle to keep the car of commerce on the track. "I didn’t mean all that," she said at last. "It’s very amusing, but I’m not in the mood to be amused. Neither are you. What I want to know about is uncle’s business." "Well, as for that," I replied, "we got through another day safely. We had one or two exceedingly tight pinches, but we wriggled out all right. I guess the worst of it is over, and we shall pull through in good shape." She dropped my arm with an impatient gesture, and I felt a sudden breaking of the current of silent communication that had drawn us together. "Won’t you tell me just what happened at the office to-day, and just how we stand? Didn’t I tell you that I find nothing so terrible as uncertainty? It is the unknown that scares me. Let me see what is before me, and I’ll have the courage to face it. Tell me the truth as you would tell it to uncle if you were talking to him instead of to me." Her tone was so pleading that my heart melted within me, and I was shaken with the desire to take her in my arms and tell her that it would be the business of my life to shield her from harm. It was a minute before I had a firm grasp on myself. Then I laid the whole account of Wharton Kendrick’s business before her, as fully as I knew it. She heard me soberly, with only a question here and there to clear up the points she did not understand. Then she asked: "The troubles aren’t over yet, are they?" "No." "And what shall you do to-morrow?" "I wish I knew." She reflected a little, and then said: "You can’t perform miracles every day. You could not get through another day like to-day, could you?" "Not without help from somewhere. But I hope that the worst is over." "Oh, you needn’t think I’ll blame you if everything goes to pieces. You’ve done ten times as much as anybody had a right to expect. But there is a limit to the things that can be done, and I know it very well." I tried to speak, but she continued quickly: "Oh, I haven’t given up hope. Not a bit of it. But I have to look ahead. That’s a part of me. But I won’t talk about it if you don’t like." At the thought of her anxieties my feelings over-mastered me and I said: