oman who had made her living in
the dance-halls, and every one knows no woman ever did that and remained
straight. They warned me of the character of this girl, of your
infatuation, of your callousness to public opinion. They told me how
barefaced, how shameless you were. They begged me to try and save you. I
would not believe it, but now I've come to see for myself, and it's all
true, it's all true."

He bowed his head in emotion.

"Oh, she's good!" I cried. "If you knew her you would think so, too.
You, too, would love her."

"Heaven forbid! Boy, I must save you. I must, for the honour of the old
name that's never been tarnished. I must make you come home with me."

He put both hands on my shoulders, looking commandingly into my face.

"No, no," I said, "I'll never leave her."

"It will be all right. We can pay her. It can be arranged. Think of the
honour of the old name, lad."

I shook him off. "Pay!"--I laughed ironically. "Pay" in connection with
the name of Berna--again I laughed.

"She's good," I said once again. "Wait a little till you know her. Don't
judge her yet. Wait a little."

He saw it was of no use to waste further words on me. He sighed.

"Well, well," he said, "have it your own way. I think she's ruining you.
She's dragging you down, sapping your moral principles, lowering your
standard of pure living. She must be bad, bad, or she wouldn't live with
you like that. But have it your own way, boy; I'll wait and see."

CHAPTER XX

In the crystalline days that followed I did much to bring about a
friendship between Garry and Berna. At first I had difficulty in
dragging him to the house, but in a little while he came quite
willingly. The girl, too, aided me greatly. In her sweet, shy way she
did her best to win his regard, so that as the winter advanced a great
change came over him. He threw off that stern manner of his as an actor
throws off a part, and once again he was the dear old Garry I knew and
loved.

His sunny charm returned, and with it his brilliant smile, his warm,
endearing frankness. He was now twenty-eight, and if there was a
handsomer man in the Northland I had yet to see him. I often envied him
for his fine figure and his clean, vivid colour. It was a wonderfully
expressive face that looked at you, firm and manly, and, above all,
clever. You found a pleasure in the resonant sweetness of his voice. You
were drawn irresistibly to the man, even as you would have been dra