d Mannie. "She made me stop. I had to stop. She started
taking it herself."

"What!" cried Winthrop.

"Oh!" exclaimed Mannie hastily, "I don't mean what you mean--I mean
she started taking it to make me stop. She says to me, Mannie, you're
killing yourself, and you got to quit it; and if you don't, every time
you take a grain, I'll take two. And she did! I'd come home, and she'd
see what I'd been doing, and she'd up with her sleeves, and--" In
horrible pantomime, the boy lifted the cuff of his shirt, and pressed
his right thumb against the wrist of his other arm. At the memory of it,
he gave a shiver and, with a blow, roughly struck the cuff into place.
"God!" he muttered, "I couldn't stand it. I begged, and begged her not.
I cried. I used to get down, in this room, on my knees. And each time
she'd get whiter, and black under the eyes. And--and I had to stop.
Didn't I?"

Winthrop moved his head.

"And now," cried the boy with a happy laugh, "I'm all right!" He
appealed to the older man eagerly, wistfully. "Don't you think I'm
looking better than I did the last time you saw me?"

Again, without venturing to speak, Winthrop nodded.

Mannie smiled with pride. "Everybody tells me so," he said. "Well,
she did it. That's what she did for me. And, I can tell you," he said
simply, sincerely, "there ain't anything I wouldn't do for her. I guess
that's right, hey?" he added.

The eyes of the cruel cross-examiner, veiled under half-closed lids,
were regarding the boy with so curious an expression that under their
scrutiny Mannie, in embarrassment, moved uneasily. "I guess that's
right," he repeated.

To his surprise, the District Attorney rose from his comfortable
position and, leaning across the table, held out his hand. Mannie took
it awkwardly.

"That's all right," he said.

"Sure, it's all right," said the District Attorney.

From the hall there was the sound of light, quick steps, and Mannie,
happy to escape from a situation he did not understand, ran to the door.

"She's coming," he said. He opened the door and, as Vera entered, he
slipped past her and closed it behind him.

Vera walked directly to the chair at the top of the centre table. She
was nervous, and she was conscious that that fact was evident. To avoid
shaking hands with her visitor, she carried her own clasped in front of
her, with the fingers interlaced. She tried to speak in her usual suave,
professional tone. "How do you do?" she said.

But