She looked around with the slow bewilderment that I once saw on the face of a sleep-walker. Her eyes saw through us, and past us, fixed upon some invisible horror. She was heedless of the familiar scene, the figures grouped about her. Then there came a sudden flush to her face, a quick recoil of terror; she shuddered as if waking from a nightmare. "Why do we stay here?" she cried starting up with sudden, panic strength. "Let's get out of this horrible place! Let's go! Oh, let's go! Let's go!" And so it was, in sorrow and with dark forebodings, that we left the gay rooms where Helen had so passionately enjoyed her little flight in the sunshine. The drive through the streets was at first silent. Shutting her eyes, she leaned back in the carriage. Sometimes she shuddered convulsively. "Where ye goin'?" Mr. Winship asked at last, peering out at the carriage window. Indeed the trip to Fourteenth Street seemed interminable to me, and I didn't wonder at his impatience. The simple question broke down Helen's reserve. "Anywhere!" she sobbed, breaking into violent, hysterical tears. "I didn't want to stay there! I didn't want the furniture! I didn't want it! I don't want money! Father, you needn't mortgage!" "We'll talk 'bout that some other time," said Mr. Winship soothingly. "Nevermind now, Sissy." "Ye'll take good care of Helen 'Lizy?" he said to Cadge and Kitty when we had half carried her up the long flights of stairs to the studio. He seemed to take no notice of the strange furnishings of the loft, but his furrowed brow smoothed itself as he looked into the hospitable faces of the two girls. "Ye'll take good care of her?" he repeated simply. "I'm afeard my daughter ain't very well." "We will; we will!" they assured him eagerly; and indeed it seemed that Helen had found her needed rest, for she bade us good night almost cheerfully. CHAPTER II. CADGE'S ASSIGNMENT. "You say Winship is around at your place?" asked Judge Baker Friday morning. I had before told him about the approaching marriage. "The dear old boy! I am very glad." "He wants to talk with you about a mortgage," I said bluntly. "Can you dissuade him? I think the situation in its main features is no secret to you." The Judge frowned in surprise. "You don't mean that she--" "Of course Helen has refused her father's offer. We have so arranged everything that no help from him is needed, but he may be rather obstinate, for I'm afraid she wrote to him, suggesting--I mean, she now regrets it," I added.