m more than
ever now. If so, then the whole scheme under which he was working fell
to pieces.

He was worried about Steve, too. That young man would, naturally,
be furious with his sister for what he would consider her romantic
foolishness. He had been warned to behave himself; but would he? Captain
Elisha paced up and down the marble floor before the elevator cage and
wondered whether his visiting the apartment would be a wise move or a
foolish one.

The elevator descended, the door of the cage opened, and Stephen himself
darted out. His face was red, he was scowling fiercely, and he strode
toward the street without looking in his guardian's direction.

The captain caught him as he passed.

"Here, boy!" he exclaimed; "where's the fire? Where are you bound?"

His nephew, brought thus unexpectedly to a halt, stared at him.

"Oh, it's you!" he exclaimed. "Humph! I'm bound--I don't know where I'm
bound!"

"You don't, hey? Well, you can cruise a long ways on a v'yage like that.
What do you mean?"

"Aw, let me alone! I'm going to the club, I guess, or somewhere. Anyhow,
I won't stay with her. I told her so. Silly little idiot! By gad, she
understands what I think of her conduct. I'll never speak to her again.
I told her so. She--"

"Here! Belay! Stop! Who are you talking about?"

"Caro, of course. She--"

"You've run off and left her alone--to-night? Where is she?"

"Upstairs--and crying, I suppose. She doesn't do anything else. It's all
she's good for. Selfish, romantic--"

He got no further, for Captain Elisha sent him reeling with a push and
ran to the elevator.

"Eighth floor," he commanded.

The door of the apartment was not latched. Stephen, in his rage and
hurry, had neglected such trifles. The captain opened it quietly and
walked in. He entered the library. Caroline was lying on the couch,
her head buried in the pillows. She did not hear him cross the room. He
leaned over and touched her shoulder. She started, looked, and sat up,
gazing at him as though not certain whether he was a dream or reality.

And he looked at her, at her pretty face, now so white and careworn, at
her eyes, at the tear-stains on her cheeks, and his whole heart went out
to her.

"Caroline, dearie," he faltered, "forgive me for comin' here, won't you?
I had to come. I couldn't leave you alone; I couldn't rest, thinkin' of
you alone in your trouble. I know you must feel harder than ever towards
me for this afternoon's doin'