trepidation, and sat looking up
at him demurely.

"Nan," he began, "did anybody ever suggest to you that the sporty
thing for you to do would be to run away and hide where I could never
find you?"

She shook her head.

"Did anybody ever suggest to you that the sporty thing for you to do
would be to return to Port Agnew from your involuntary exile and
inspire me with some enthusiasm for life?"

His keen perception did not fail to interpret the slight flush of
embarrassment that suffused Nan's face. "I object to that question,
your honor," she replied with cleverly simulated gaiety, "on the
ground that to do so would necessitate the violation of a confidence."

"The objection is sustained by the court. Did my father or Andrew
Daney, acting for him, ever offer you any sum of money as a bribe for
disappearing out of my life?"

"No. Your father offered to be very, very kind to me the morning I was
leaving. We met at the railroad station and his offer was made _after_
I informed him that I was leaving Port Agnew forever--and why. So I
know he made the offer just because he wanted to be kind--because he
is kind."

"Neither he nor Daney communicated with you in anyway following your
departure from Port Agnew?"

"They did not."

"Before leaving New York or immediately after your return to Port
Agnew, did you enter into verbal agreement with any member of my
family or their representative to nurse me back to health and then
jilt me?"

"I did not. The morning I appeared at the hospital your father,
remembering my statement to him the morning I fled from Port Agnew,
suspected that I had had a change of heart. He said to me: 'So this is
your idea of playing the game, is it?' I assured him then that I had
not returned to Port Agnew with the intention of marrying you, but
merely to stiffen your morale, as it were. He seemed quite satisfied
with my explanation, which I gave him in absolute good faith."

"Did he ever question you as to how you ascertained I was ill?"

"No. While I cannot explain my impression, I gathered at the time that
he knew."

"He credited Andrew Daney with that philanthropic job, Nan. He does
not know that my mother communicated with you."

"Neither do you, Donald. I have not told you she did."

"I am not such a stupid fellow as to believe you would ever tell me
anything that might hurt me, Nan. One does not relish the information
that one's mother has not exhibited the sort of delicacy one ex