ease her; a
gentleman can do no less."

John Flint's lips curled. "Release her? I'd hang on till hell froze
over and caught me in the ice! I'd wait. I'd write and tell her she
didn't need to make herself unhappy about me, I was unhappy enough
about her for the two of us, because she didn't trust me enough to
tell me what her trouble was, so I could help her. That first and
always I was her friend, right here, whenever she needed me and
whatever she needed me for. And I'd stand by. What else is a man good
for?"

"I believe," said I, "that John Flint has given you the right word,
Laurence. Just hold fast and be faithful."

Laurence lifted his haggard face. "There isn't any question of my
being faithful to her, Padre. And I couldn't make myself believe that
she's less so than I. What Flint says tallies with my own intuition.
I'll write her to-night." He laid his hand on John Flint's arm.
"You're all right, Bughunter," said he, earnestly. "'Night, Padre."
Then he was gone.

"Do you think," said John Flint, when he had rejected every conjecture
his mind presented as the possible cause of Mary Virginia's action,
"that Inglesby could be at the bottom of this?"

"I think," said I, "that you have an obsession where that man is
concerned. He is a disease with you. Good heaven, what could Inglesby
possibly have to do with Mary Virginia's affairs?"

"That's what I'm wondering. Well, then, who is it?"

"Perhaps," said I, unwillingly, "it is Mary Virginia herself."

"Forget it! She's not that sort."

"She is a woman."

"Ain't it the truth, though?" he jeered. "What a peach of a reason for
not acting like herself, looking like herself, being like herself!
She's a woman! So are all the rest of the folks that weren't born men,
if you'll notice. They're women; we're men: and both of us are people.
Get it?"

"I get it," said I, annoyed. "Your attitude, John Flint, is a vulgar
platitude. And permit me to--"

"I'll permit you to do anything except get cross," said he, quickly.
The ghost of a smile touched his face. "Being bad-tempered, parson,
suits you just about as well as plaid pants and a Hello Bill button."

"I am a human being," I began, frigidly.

"And I'm another. And so is Mary Virginia. And there we are, parson.
I'm troubled. I don't like the looks of things. It's no use telling
myself this is none of my business; it is very much my business. You
remember ... when I came here ..." he hesitated, for this is a sub