or crawl, no matter what the consequences, have only
contempt for a man who hides his wallet. "Hands out and everything
you've got on the table," is their creed. This done their pockets are
wide open and every hand raised to help the other fellow to his feet.

All these thoughts raced through Adam's head as he continued to pace
the floor. Now and then he would stop in his walk and look intently at
some figure in the costly rug beneath his feet, as if the solution of
his problem lay in its richly colored surface. Two questions recurred
again and again: What could he do to help? and how could he get hold
of Madeleine?

As the hours wore on he became more restless. Early that
morning--before he had gone to Madeleine's--his brush, spurred by his
hopes, had worked as if it had been inspired. Not only had the
sitter's head been blocked in with masterly strokes, but with such
fulness and power that few of them need ever be retouched--a part of
his heart, in fact, had gone into the blending of every flesh tone.
But it was all over now; his enthusiasm and sureness had fled. In
fact, he had, on his return, dropped his brushes into his ginger-jar
for his servant to clean, and given up painting for the day.

Soon he began fussing about his studio, looking over a portfolio for a
pose he needed; replacing some books in his library; adding fresh
water to the roses that stood under Olivia's portrait--gazing up into
its eyes as if some help could be found in their depths--his
uneasiness increasing every moment as the hour of Phil's return
approached.

At the sound of a quick step in the corridor--how well he knew the
young man's tread--he threw open the door and pushed aside the velvet
curtain. Better welcome the poor fellow with a smile and a cheery
word.

"Come in, Phil!" he cried--"Come--_Why, Madeleine!_"

She stood just outside the door, a heavy brown veil tied over her hat,
her trim figure half concealed by a long cloak. For an instant she did
not speak, nor did she move.

"Yes, it's I, Mr. Gregg," she sobbed. "Are you sure there's nobody
with you? Oh, I'm so wretched! I had to come: Please let me talk to
you. Father told me you had been to see me. He was furious when you
went away, and I know how he must have behaved to you." She seemed
completely prostrated. Buoyant temperaments pendulate in extremes.

He had drawn her inside now, his arms about her, holding her erect as
he led her to a seat with the same tenderness of