Very well," he assented unwillingly. "But you can tell me what's
the trouble with you, can't you? Where do you have to go?"

"I--I," began Jennie, stammering. "I--have--"

"Yes," he said grimly.

"I have to go on an errand," she stumbled on. "I--I can't
wait. I'll tell you when I come back, Lester. Please don't ask me
now."

She looked vainly at him, her troubled countenance still marked by
preoccupation and anxiety to get away, and Lester, who had never seen
this look of intense responsibility in her before, was moved and
irritated by it.

"That's all right," he said, "but what's the use of all this
secrecy? Why can't you come out and tell what's the matter with you?
What's the use of this whispering behind doors? Where do you have to
go?"

He paused, checked by his own harshness, and Jennie, who was
intensely wrought up by the information she had received, as well as
the unwonted verbal castigation she was now enduring, rose to an
emotional state never reached by her before.

"I will, Lester, I will," she exclaimed. "Only not now. I haven't
time. I'll tell you everything when I come back. Please don't stop me
now."

She hurried to the adjoining chamber to get her wraps, and Lester,
who had even yet no clear conception of what it all meant, followed
her stubbornly to the door.

"See here," he exclaimed in his vigorous, brutal way, "you're not
acting right. What's the matter with you? I want to know."

He stood in the doorway, his whole frame exhibiting the pugnacity
and settled determination of a man who is bound to be obeyed. Jennie,
troubled and driven to bay, turned at last.

"It's my child, Lester," she exclaimed. "It's dying. I haven't time
to talk. Oh, please don't stop me. I'll tell you everything when I
come back."

"Your child!" he exclaimed. "What the hell are you talking
about?"

"I couldn't help it," she returned. "I was afraid--I should
have told you long ago. I meant to only--only--Oh, let me go
now, and I'll tell you all when I come back!"

He stared at her in amazement; then he stepped aside, unwilling to
force her any further for the present. "Well, go ahead," he said
quietly. "Don't you want some one to go along with you?"

"No," she replied. "Mrs. Olsen is right here. I'll go with
her."

She hurried forth, white-faced, and he stood there, pondering.
Could this be the woman he had thought he knew? Why, she had been
deceiving him for years. Jennie! The white-faced! The simple!