Nona stopped, her heels firmly set on the pavement. "The same old two?" "No. Besides, there are three of those. You never _could_ count." He hesitated: "This time it's only about Arthur--" "Why; what's the matter?" The sense of apprehension woke in her again. What if Wyant really had begun to suspect that there was something, an imponderable something, wrong between Jim and Lita, and had been too shrewd to let Nona detect his suspicion? "Haven't you noticed? He looks like the devil. He's been drinking again. Eleanor spoke to me--" "Oh, dear." There it was--all the responsibilities and worries always closed in on Nona! But this one, after all, was relatively bearable. "What can I do, Stan? I can't imagine why you come to _me_!" He smiled a little, in his queer derisive way. "Doesn't everybody? The fact is--I didn't want to bother Jim." She was silent. She understood; but she resented his knowing that she understood. "Jim has got to be bothered. He's got to look after his father." "Yes; but I-- Oh, look here, Nona; won't you see?" "See what?" "Why--that if Jim is worried about his father now--Jim's a queer chap; he's tried his hand at fifty things, and never stuck to one; and if he gets a shock now, on top of everything else--" Nona felt her lips grow hard: all her pride and tenderness for her brother stiffened into ice about her heart. "I don't know what you mean. Jim's grown up--he's got to face things." "Yes; I know. I've been told the same thing about myself. But there are things one doesn't ever have a chance to face in this slippery sliding modern world, because they don't come out into the open. They just lurk and peep and mouth. My case exactly. What on earth is there about Aggie that a fellow can _face_?" Nona stopped short with a jerk. "We don't happen to be talking about you and Aggie," she said. "Oh, well; I was merely using myself as an example. But there are plenty of others to choose from." Her voice broke into anger. "I don't imagine you're comparing your married life to Jim's?" "Lord, no. God forbid!" He burst into a dry laugh. "When I think of Aggie's life and Lita's--!" "Never mind about Lita's life. What do you know about it, anyhow? Oh, Stan, why are we quarrelling again?" She felt the tears in her throat. "What you wanted was only to tell me about poor Arthur. And I'd guessed that myself--I know something ought to be done. But _what_? How on earth can I tell? I'm always being asked by everybody what ought to be done ... and sometimes I feel too young to be always the one to judge, to decide..." Heuston stood watching her in silence. Suddenly he took her hand and drew it through his arm. She did not resist, and thus linked they walked on slowly and without further speech through the cold deserted streets. As they approached more populous regions she freed her arm from his, and signalled to a taxi. "May I come?" "No. I'm going to meet Lita at the Cubist Cabaret. I promised to be there by four."