!"

A restrained smile played over St. George's face. The tide was setting
his way.

"It won't do a bit of good," he said calmly, smothering his joy. "I've
talked to him until I'm tired, and the longer I talk the more wild he
is to see you. Now it's your turn and there's no time to lose. I'll have
him here in five minutes," and he glanced at the clock. She raised her
hand in alarm:

"I don't want him yet. You must see him first--you must--"

"No, I won't see him first, and I'm not going to wait a minute. Talk to
him yourself; put your arms around him and tell him everything you have
told me--now--to-night. I'm going for him," and he sprang to his feet.

"No!--you must not! You SHALL not!" she cried, clutching nervously at
his arm, but he was out of the room before she could stop him.

In the silent hall, hat in hand, his whole body tense with expectancy,
stood Harry. He had killed time by walking up and down the long strip of
carpet between the front door and the staircase, measuring his nervous
steps to the length of the pattern, his mind distracted by his fears
for the outcome--his heart thumping away at his throat, a dull fright
gripping him when he thought of losing her altogether.

St. George's quick step, followed by his firm clutch of the inside knob,
awoke him to consciousness. He sprang forward to catch his first word.

"Can I go in?" he stammered.

St. George grabbed him by the shoulder, wheeled him around, and faced
him.

"Yes, you reprobate, and when you get in go down on your knees and beg
her pardon, and if I ever catch you causing her another heartache I'll
break your damned neck!--do you hear?"

With the shutting of the swinging gate the wily old diplomat regained
his normal good-humored poise, his face beaming, his whole body tingling
at his success. He knew what was going on behind the closed curtains,
and just how contrite and humble the boy would be, and how Kate would
scold and draw herself up--proud duchess that she was--and how Harry
would swear by the nine gods, and an extra one if need be--and
then there would come a long, long silence, broken by meaningless,
half-spoken words--and then another silence--so deep and absorbing that
a full choir of angels might have started an anthem above their heads
and neither of them would have heard a word or note.

And so he kept on his way, picking his steps between the moist places
in the path to avoid soiling his freshly varnished boots; ti