been on fire, or a cyclone
had struck the place--anything so he could fling himself into service.
He drew in long, deep breaths. It was like mountain air to get away from
that lurid room into the light once more. A sense of lost power
returned, was over him. The spell was broken.

He bent over the little boy alertly, grasped the wrist, and stopped the
spurt of blood. The frightened child looked up into his face and stopped
crying.

"You should have telephoned for the doctor at once and not made all this
fuss in the presence of a guest," scolded Gila as she came up the
stairs. She looked garish and out of place with her red velvet and
jewels in the brilliant light of the white-tiled bathroom. She stood
helplessly by the door, making no move to help Courtland. The maid was
at the telephone, frantically calling for the family physician.

"Hand me those towels," commanded Courtland, and saw the look of disgust
upon Gila's face as she reluctantly picked her way across the
blood-stains. It struck him that they were the color of her frock. The
stain of the crushed berry. He moistened his dry lips. At least the
stain was not upon his lips. He had escaped. Yet by how narrow a margin.

The girl felt the man's changed attitude without in the least
understanding it. She thought it had been the cry of the child that made
him jump up and fling her hands from him with that sudden "Hark!" in the
moment when he had almost yielded. She did not know that an inner voice
had called him. She only knew that she had lost him for the time, and
her vanity was still panting like a wild thing that has lost its prey.

He gathered the little boy into his arms when he had bound up the cut,
and talked to him cheerfully. The child's curly head rested trustfully
against the big shoulder.

"Floor all bluggy!" he remarked, languidly. "Wall all bluggy!" Then his
eyes fell on his sister in her scarlet frock. "Gila all bluggy, too!" he
laughed, and pointed with his well hand.

"Be still, Harry!" said Gila, sharply, and when Courtland looked up in
wonder he saw the delicate brows drawn blackly, and the mouth had lost
its innocent sweetness. The child shrank in his arms, and he put a
reassuring hand upon the little head that snuggled comfortedly against
his coat. It was one of Courtland's strong points, this love of little
children. He grew fine and gentle in their presence. It often drew
attention on the athletic field when some little fellow strayed h