Moreover--and here the new voices called most loudly in her heart--he was worn and unhappy. The iron had palpably entered his soul too. He looked years older than he had any chronological right to look. There were heavy lines of anxiety on his face, and his blonde hair was powdered thick with silver. “Yes, I am truly sorry,” she said again. “Is it business that has gone wrong with you?” “Business--family--health--sleep--everything!” he groaned, bitterly. “It is literally a hell that I have been living in this last--these last few months!” “I had no idea of that,” she said, simply. Of course it would be ridiculous to ask if there was anything she could do, but she had comfort from the thought that he must realize what was in her mind. “So help me God, Jess!” he burst out vehemently, under the incentive of her sympathy, “I’m coming to believe that every man is a scoundrel, and every woman a fool!” “There was a long time when _I_ thought that,” she said with a sigh. He looked quickly at her from under his brows, and then as swiftly turned his glance away. “Yes, I know,” he answered uneasily, tapping with his fingers on the desk. “But we won’t talk of that,” she urged, with a little tremor of anxiety in her tone. “We needn’t talk of that at all. It was merely by accident that I came here, Horace. I wanted to ask a question, and nothing was further from my head than finding you here.” “Let’s see--Mart Jocelyn had this place up to a couple of months ago. Was it he you came to see? I didn’t know you knew him.” “No, you foolish boy!” she said, with a smile which had a ground tone of sadness. “I never heard of him before. It was simply any lawyer I was looking for. But what I wanted to say was that I am not angry with you any more. I’ve learned a host of bitter lessons since we were--young together, and I’m too much alone in the world to want to keep you an enemy. You don’t seem so very happy yourself, Horace. Why shouldn’t we two be friends again? I’m not talking of anything else, Horace--understand me. But it appeals to me very strongly, this idea of our being friends again.” Horace looked meditatively at her, with softening eyes. “You’re the best of the lot, dear old Jess,” he said at last, smiling candidly. “Truly I’m glad you came--gladder than I can tell you. I was in the very slough of despond when you entered; and now--well, at least I’m going to play that I am out of it.” Jessica rose with a beaming countenance, and laid her hand frankly on his shoulder. “I’m glad I came, too,” she said. “And very soon I want to see you again--when you are quite free--and have a long, quiet talk.” “All right, my girl,” he answered, rising as well. The prospect seemed entirely attractive to him. He took her hand in his, and said again: “All right. And must you go now?”