about anything else. She writes to him all
the time and wears his picture in her watch!"

"Do you know that?"

"Of course I know it. She can't talk about him at home, so she pours it
all out to me."

"But haven't you told her what you know about him?"

"I've hinted at it, but she won't believe me because she knows I hate
him. I wanted to tell her about what he said to me, and about that nurse
he got into trouble out at the hospital; but I was afraid it might make
an awful row and spoil everything for Papa Claude."

"I don't care who it spoils things for! She's got to be told." Quin's
eyes were blazing.

"But perhaps if we leave it alone he'll get tired of her. They say he
keeps after a girl until he gets her engaged to him, then drops her."

"He'd never drop Miss Nell. No man would. He'd be trying to marry her."

"But what can we _do?_ The more people talk about him, the more she's
going to take up for him. That's Nell all over."

"Couldn't Mr. Martel----"

"Papa Claude's as much taken in as she is. You remember the night over
home when he talked about his lovely detached soul? He never sees the
truth about anybody."

"Well, he's going to see the truth about this. If you don't write to him
to-night and tell him the kind of man Mr. Phipps is, I will!"

"Wait till to-morrow. I'll have another round with Nell. I've got some
proof that I think she'll have to believe."

Quin rose restlessly. He wanted to go to the Bartletts' at once, if only
to stand guard at the gate against the danger that threatened Eleanor.

"Aren't you coming home to supper?" asked Rose.

"No," he said absently; "I don't want any supper."

For an hour he paced the streets, trying to think things out. His burning
desire was to go straight to Eleanor and lay the whole matter before her.
But according to his ethics it was a poor sport who would discredit a
rival, especially on hearsay. He must leave it to Rose, and let her
furnish the proof she said she possessed.

At eight o'clock he rang the Bartletts' bell, and was surprised when Miss
Isobel opened the door.

"She isn't here," she said in answer to his inquiry. "We cannot imagine
what has become of her. She must have gone out just before dinner, and
she has not returned."

"Didn't she say where she was going?"

"No." Miss Isobel's lips worked nervously; then she drew Quin into the
dining-room and closed the door, "She and mother had a very serious
misunderstanding, and--and I'm