He leaned his face down on the window sill, and his form shook with emotion too strong for words. Dallas Bain was not surprised, for in his month’s association with this man he had become convinced that a rooted sorrow, coupled with strange remorse, lay at the bottom of his heart. Ray Dering had heavy, restless nights, and strange, wild dreams, in which he often talked aloud, so that Dallas had conceived suspicions that he would not have breathed aloud. But he believed that Ray Dering was good and noble at heart, and longed to help and comfort him. Hence his kind words that had stirred the other’s nature to such wild emotion. Dallas waited till the storm had spent itself and Ray’s heaving shoulders grew calm again; then he said gently: “You ask why I know you had a love affair? A drummer on the train, when your arm was broken, told me so, and said you were throwing yourself away for her sake. Now, why should you wreck your noble manhood for the sake of a heartless little coquette?” “Ah, why--why?” groaned Ray Dering bitterly. “Ah, Dallas Bain, you do not know me, do not guess at the sleeping devil in my nature, or you would not ask me such a question! Listen: I loved my bright, beautiful little sweetheart with all the fire of a jealous, passionate nature, and I thought I had her whole heart in return. We were to have been married this winter, and I intended to leave the road then, and settle down to a quiet life on a legacy left me by my maiden aunt last spring. Well, I went to see her in August, full of love and pride--and, well, I found out that my pretty little sweetheart was in love--with another man.” Ray Dering shot a fiery glance at Dallas Bain, and added: “You ought to know the girl and the man. She was Annette Janowitz--he was----Ah, you start! No wonder!” But it was not a guilty start from Dallas. He exclaimed: “Do you mean Miss Janowitz, of Gull Beach, a little brunette beauty? Why, she was an intimate friend of my own love, Daisie Bell.” “And perhaps a friend of yours, too?” Ray Dering cried, with a harsh, grating laugh and a penetrating glance that tried to pierce Dallas through and through. He answered simply: “I do not know Miss Janowitz very well, having only met her twice at crowded receptions; but I have a great esteem for her because she was Daisie’s true friend, and tried to forward our love affair in many ways.” A strange light broke on Ray Dering’s mind, and he cried breathlessly: “Explain!” So Dallas told him the simple story Daisie had whispered to him, of how she had tried to win him back to her by artless artifices, and how Annette had helped her all she could by taking the letter she had written up to Sea View. “But I never received it, for I had gone away before, and it was a sad mission for little Annette, for while returning through the grounds at Sea View she was hit by a stray shot that nearly cost her her life--poor girl!” he added. “A stray shot!” murmured Dering.