“I can't--I just can't!” “You won't see him once?” She sprang to her feet trembling. “No--no!” “I don't think it's fair.” “I'm afraid of him! You can't understand his power over my will.” “Come, come, this is sheer cowardice--give the devil his dues. Face him and fight it out. Tell him you're done forever with him and his life, if you will--but don't hedge and trim and run away like this. I'm ashamed of you.” “I won't see him--I've made up my mind.” The Doctor threw up both hands. “All right. If you won't, you won't. We'll let it go at that.” He paused and changed his tones to friendly personal interest. “And you're determined to leave me and take my kid away tomorrow?” “We must go. I've no money to pay my board. I can't impose on you----” “It's going to be awfully lonely.” He looked at her with a strange, deep gaze, lifted his stooping shoulders with sudden resolution and changed his manner to light banter. “I suppose I couldn't persuade you to give me that boy?” She smiled tenderly. “You know his father did leave his mark on him after all! The eyes are all his. Of course, I will admit that those drooping lids have often been the mark of genius--perhaps a genius for evil in this case. If you don't want to take the risk--now's your chance. I will----” Mary shook her head in reproachful protest. “Don't tease me, dear doctor man. I've just this one day more with you. I'm counting each precious hour.” “Forgive me!” he cried gayly. “I won't tease you any more. Come, we'll run over now and see our neighbor's new bungalow before you go. You admire this one and threaten to duplicate it. He has built a better one.” “I don't believe it.” “You'll go?” “If you wish it----” “Good. We'll take the boy, too. He can drive his new wagon the whole way. It's only half a mile.” CHAPTER XXIX. THE NEW MAN The door of the bungalow stood wide open. Mary paused in rapture over the rich beds of wood violets that carpeted the spaces between the drive and the log walls. “Aren't they beautiful!” she cried. “A perfect carpet of dazzling green and purple!” “Come right in,” the Doctor urged from the steps. “My neighbor's a patient of mine. He hasn't moved in yet but he told me always to make myself at home.” Mary lifted the boy from his wagon, tied the goat and led the child into the house. The Doctor showed her through without comment. None was needed. The woman's keen eye saw at a glance the perfection of care with which the master builder had wrought the slightest detail of every room. The floors were immaculate native hard-wood--its grain brought out through shining mirrors of clean varnish. There was not one shoddy piece of work from the kitchen sink to the big open fireplace in the spacious hall and living-room. “It's exquisite!” she exclaimed at last. “It seems all hand-made--doesn't it?” “It is, too. The owner literally built it with his own hands--a work of love.” “For himself?” Mary asked with a smile.