too much. It was an awkward
situation and he feared he had not tact enough to deal with it.

"The truth is, I've no wish to renew my acquaintance with people I met in
England, and I went to America in order to avoid doing so," he said. "You
know what happened before I left."

"Yes; but I think you are exaggerating its importance. After all, you're
not the only man who has, through nothing worse than carelessness, had a
black mark put against his name. You may have a chance yet of showing
that the thing was a mistake."

"Then I must wait until the chance comes," Dick answered firmly.

"Very well," said Kenwardine. "Since this means you're determined to go,
we must try to make it as easy as possible for you. I'll see the doctor
and Mr. Fuller."

He went out, and by and by Clare came in and noted a difference in Dick.
He had generally greeted her as eagerly as his weakness allowed, and
showed his dependence on her, but now his face was hard and resolute. The
change was puzzling and disturbing.

"My father tells me you want to go away," she remarked.

"I don't want to, but I must," Dick answered with a candor he had not
meant to show. "You see, things I ought to be looking after will all go
wrong at the dam."

"Isn't that rather egotistical?" Clare asked with a forced smile. "I have
seen Mr. Bethune, who doesn't look overworked and probably doesn't mind
the extra duty. In fact, he said so."

"People sometimes say such things, but when they have to do a good deal
more than usual they mind very much. Anyhow, it isn't fair to ask them,
and that's one reason for my going away."

Clare colored and her eyes began to sparkle. "Do you think we mind?"

"I don't," Dick answered awkwardly, feeling that he was not getting on
very well. "I know how kind you are and that you wouldn't shirk any
trouble. But still----"

"Suppose we don't think it a trouble?"

Dick knitted his brows. It was hard to believe that the girl who sat
watching him with a puzzled look was an adventuress. He had made her
blush, and had come near to making her angry, while an adventuress would
not have shown her feelings so easily. The light that shone through the
window touched her face, and he noted its delicate modeling, the purity
of her skin, and the softness of her eyes. The sparkle had gone, and they
were pitiful. Clare had forgiven his ingratitude because he was ill.

"Well," he said, "what you think doesn't alter the fact that I have given
y