the foot of the stairs and watched her going up. He knew
she liked him to do that, that she would expect to find him there when
she reached the top and looked down, panting slightly.

"Good-night," he called. "Both windows open. I shall go outside to see."

Then he went back to Ellen, still standing primly over her Lares and
Penates.

"Now tell me about it," he said.

"I've left them. There has been a terrible fuss, and when Miss Lily left
to-night, I did too."

"She left her home?"

She nodded.

"It's awful, Willy. I don't know all of it, but they've been having her
followed, or her grandfather did. I think there's a man in it. Followed!
And her a good girl! Her grandfather's been treating her like a dog for
weeks. We all noticed it. And to-night there was a quarrel, with all of
them at her like a pack of dogs, and her governess crying in the hall. I
just went up and packed my things."

"Where did she go?"

"I don't know. I got her a taxicab, and she only took one bag. I went
right off to the housekeeper and told her I wouldn't stay, and they
could send my money after me."

"Did you notice the number of the taxicab?"

"I never thought of it."

He saw it all with terrible distinctness, The man was Akers, of course.
Then, if she had left her home rather than give him up, she was really
in love with him. He had too much common sense to believe for a moment
that she had fled to Louis Akers' protection, however. That was the
last thing she would do. She would have gone to a hotel, or to the Doyle
house.

"She shouldn't have left home, Ellen."

"They drove her out, I tell you," Ellen cried, irritably. "At least
that's what it amounted to. There are things no high-minded girl will
stand. Can you lend me some money, Willy?"

He felt in his pocket, producing a handful of loose money.

"Of course you can have all I've got," he said. "But you must not go
to-night, Miss Ellen. It's too late. I'll give you my room and go in
with Dan Boyd."

And he prevailed over her protests, in the end. It was not until he saw
her settled there, hiding her sense of strangeness under an impassive
mask, that he went downstairs again and took his hat from its hook.

Lily must go back home, he knew. It was unthinkable that she should
break with her family, and go to the Doyles. He had too little
self-consciousness to question the propriety of his own interference,
too much love for her to care whether she resented that interfer