von Gerhard back home. I've scarcely seen him since I
have been here. Famous specialists can't be bothered with middle-aged
relatives of their college friends, can they, Herr Doktor?"

And now it was Von Gerhard's face that flushed a deep and painful
crimson. He looked at me, in silence, and I felt very little, and
insignificant, and much like an impudent child who has stuck out its
tongue at its elders. Silent men always affect talkative women in that
way.

"You know that what you say is not true," he said, slowly.

"Well, we won't quibble. We--we were just about to leave, weren't we
Blackie?"

"Just," said Blackie, rising. "Sorry t' see you drinkin' Baumbach's
coffee, Doc. It ain't fair t' your patients."

"Quite right," replied Von Gerhard; and rose with us. "I shall not drink
it. I shall walk home with Mrs. Orme instead, if she will allow me. That
will be more stimulating than coffee, and twice as dangerous, perhaps,
but--"

"You know how I hate that sort of thing," I said, coldly, as we passed
from the warmth of the little front shop where the plump girls were
still filling pasteboard boxes with holiday cakes, to the brisk chill of
the winter street. The little black-and-gilt sign swung and creaked in
the wind. Whimsically, and with the memory of that last cream-filled
cake fresh in my mind, I saluted the letters that spelled "Franz
Baumbach."

Blackie chuckled impishly. "Just the same, try a pinch of soda
bicarb'nate when you get home, Dawn," he advised. "Well, I'm off to the
factory again. Got t' make up for time wasted on m' lady friend. Auf
wiedersehen!"

And the little figure in the checked top-coat trotted off.

"But he called you--Dawn," broke from Von Gerhard.

"Mhum," I agreed. "My name's Dawn."

"Surely not to him. You have known him but a few weeks. I would not have
presumed--"

"Blackie never presumes," I laughed. "Blackie's just--Blackie. Imagine
taking offense at him! He knows every one by their given name, from Jo,
the boss of the pressroom, to the Chief, who imports his office coats
from London. Besides, Blackie and I are newspaper men. And people don't
scrape and bow in a newspaper office--especially when they're fond of
one another. You wouldn't understand."

As I looked at Von Gerhard in the light of the street lamp I saw a
tense, drawn look about the little group of muscles which show when the
teeth are set hard. When he spoke those muscles had relaxed but little.

"One man d