"Yes--doubts. You're like most of these mothers and fathers.... You couldn't believe. You made excuses for the smoke--saying there was no fire." "No more doubts, alas!... My God! I _saw_," burst out Lane. "All right. Buck up now. It's something to be sure.... You've overdone your strength. You look...." "Pepper, do me a favor," interposed Lane, as he made for the door. "Get me an axe and leave it here in your rooms. In case I want to break in on those fellows some time--quick--I'll have it ready." "Sure, I'll get you anything. And I want to be around when you butt in on them." "That's up to you. Good-bye now. I'll run in to-morrow if I'm up to it." Lane went home, his mind in a tumult. His mother had just discovered that he had not slept in his bed, and was greatly relieved to see him. Breakfast was waiting, and after partaking of it Lane felt somewhat better. His mother appeared more than usually sombre. Worry was killing her. "Lorna did not sleep at home last night," she said, presently, as if reluctantly forced to impart this information. "Where was she?" he queried, blankly. "She said she would stay with a friend." "What friend?" "Some girl. Oh, it's all right I suppose. She's stayed away before with girl friends.... But what worried me...." "Well," queried Lane, as she paused. "Lorna was angry again last night. And she told me if you didn't stop your nagging she'd go away from home and stay. Said she could afford to pay her board." "She told me that, too," replied Lane, slowly. "And--I'm afraid she meant it." "Leave her alone, Daren." "Poor mother! I'm afraid I'm a--a worry to you as well as Lorna," he said, gently, with a hand going to her worn cheek. She said nothing, although her glance rested upon him with sad affection. Lane clambered wearily up to his little room. It had always been a refuge. He leaned a moment against the wall, and felt in his extremity like an animal in a trap. A thousand pricking, rushing sensations seemed to be on the way to his head. That confusion, that sensation as if his blood vessels would burst, yielded to his will. He sat down on his bed. Only the physical pains and weariness, and the heartsickness abided with him. These had been nothing to daunt his spirit. But to-day was different. The dark, vivid, terrible picture in his mind unrolled like a page. Yesterday was different. To-day he seemed a changed man, confronted by imperious demands. Time was driving onward fast.