olved it, in this very room."

She raised her brows interrogatively.

"'To say our prayers, and wait,'" he quoted.

Her momentary distrust of him weakened, and her face lighted, as she
heard him quoting her own words, spoken so long ago.

"Yes; but I--we all--think it is time--think it may be a mistake."

He lifted his eyes from the fire, looked at her steadily for a minute,
and then stared into the fire again. She grew restless with the
stillness.

"And we thought perhaps you could say something."

"To--?" he asked, without raising his eyes.

"To Mr. Lorimer."

"What could I say?"

"Something to break it off."

In spite of himself, he laughed outright.

"Would you advise threats or bribery, Miss Gannion? I really can't
imagine any argument that would lead Lorimer to give up Miss Dane of his
own accord."

"Couldn't you put it to him strongly that he has no moral right to hold
her to her promise?"

"I could; but he would probably put it to me just as strongly that I
have no moral right to interfere in his concerns."

Miss Gannion sat up straight, bracing her elbows against the sides of
her chair.

"Mr. Thayer, have you any idea that Mr. Lorimer will ever give up
drinking, drinking more than is good for him?"

"I have not."

"Have you any idea that Beatrix, if she marries him, can escape years of
anxiety and wretchedness?"

"I have not," he answered again.

"Oh, how cold you are!" she cried, in passionate revolt against his even
tone. "Don't you care anything at all for Beatrix?"

If he flinched at her question, he rallied again too quickly for her to
discover it. Then he looked her squarely in the eye.

"I would do anything in my power to protect Miss Dane; but this is a
case where I have no right to speak to her. I have spoken to Lorimer
again and again, urging him to control himself for her sake. Beyond
that, I have no right to go."

"But you said once that you thought she ought to be told."

"That was months ago. She found out, without being told."

"Not all."

"Enough."

"But, if she knew all about it, all that you know, Beatrix Dane would
never marry Sidney Lorimer."

"Very likely not."

"Then you ought to tell her. What right have you to suppress facts that
would change her whole point of view? You have it in your power to save
Beatrix Dane. Once you were willing to do it." She had risen and stood
on the rug, facing him. Stung by his coldness and by her disappointment
in him