The moment he was out of sight Augustus stepped quickly to the door of the living room, and putting his head in, spoke to his wife in a sharp half whisper: “No monkey business now! If you give away anything you’ll be sorry for it!” And hearing steps near the top of the stairs he was instantly back at the front door again, waiting. Haworth came down with a ten-dollar bill which he handed to Findlay, and the latter thanked him effusively and left the house. Haworth stood for a moment in thought, then went back into the living room. Edith Findlay looked up at him as he came in, and he stopped with his eyes on her, seeing that she was going to speak. But it seemed hard for her to do so. “Oh, I’m sorry!” she finally said in a sort of breathless whisper. He thought it over and then said, “Why?” “I didn’t want to come—I tried to stop him.” Her voice had a soft huskiness that was strangely appealing. Her glance flitted painfully about the room, and she turned to him again. “It’ll be so terrible for you!” “You needn’t worry about me,” he said quietly, his eyes resting softly on her face. “I can’t help it. I——No!” She suddenly stood up. “We mustn’t stay, Mr. Haworth. I’ll find him and tell him so!” “Don’t do that,” he said. “Oh, but I——Mr. Haworth you—you don’t understand!” “Not very well,—but you’ll tell me I hope.... No,—sit down first—this chair.” And as he moved nearer she sank into the old upholstered chair he indicated. “Where could you go?” he asked as he stood before her. “Oh——” She waved her hand as if such a matter was of no consequence. “That’s—that’s nothing!” “Nothing for him perhaps, but——” He broke off, looking down into her upturned eyes. A little spasmodic shiver passed over her. Haworth stepped quickly to the fireplace where wood and kindlings were ready laid. He knelt there, lighting a match and holding it to the shavings and small splinters. She seemed somehow like a child, sitting there so small and demure in the big armchair. A child in distress, for from her face you’d hardly think she’d had any sleep for a week, and her dress was pitifully worn and shabby. As Haworth was kneeling at the fireplace he turned to ask her something. The quick flaming of the shavings and small stuff threw a bright light on her poor little run-over shoes. He stopped motionless looking at them, then leaned over without getting to his feet and touched one. At once he rose and walked around behind her chair, which he pushed and turned until her feet were as near the fire as he thought would do. Then he pushed an electric button near the door. “You may not know it,” he said as he stood waiting, “but you’re going to drink some hot tea—something near two hundred and twelve in the shade. Also, you’re going to have dry things for your feet, even if you have to shuffle about in something of mine!”