of hammering that she felt would set her mad. She stood
helpless, her career, her work, her ambition gone from her in a divine
self-forgetting and desire to help, as his gayety, his charm, "his
difference" from all others came back to her. She made new excuses for
his conduct. She told herself, as a mother might speak of a child, that
he had been so spoiled. She remembered only the best of him--his
kindness to her father, his generosity to herself.

She had long since realized the weight of Frank's words the morning of
their parting.

"And remember, that if I did not do the best, I did not do the worst;
that I am going away when I might stay," and she knew, looking back on
her youth and trustfulness, how much truth there might have been in
those words. She clasped her hands to her head trying to think. The
throbbing in her head began to be followed by horrid sensations of
things around going far away to an immeasurable distance, and returning
again rapidly and horribly enlarged.

"Dangerously ill!" she repeated. "Dying, perhaps, alone in hotel rooms
with none but paid attendance."

Her throat became choked at thought of it. "Father in heaven," she
cried, her hands clasped together, "help me to help him! Don't let him
suffer!" she pleaded. "I promised to help him always. Help me to keep my
promise!"

* * * * *

Outside, the controversy between the maid at the door and some other was
growing louder, and a demanding, forceful, insolent voice was insisting
upon seeing Katrine "immejit," as the frightened French girl came back
to the room in a panic of fear.

"A gentleman to see you, mademoiselle."

"I can see no one," Katrine answered, briefly, her face averted.

"He says his business is most important."

"Who is it, Marcelle?" she asked.

"It is Nora's son, mademoiselle, and he has been drinking; but if I were
you, I'd see him."

The significance of the girl's tone changed Katrine's former decision.

"Tell him to come in," she said.

Barney came as far as the doorway and stood leaning against the frame of
it, his eyes hot and angry, waving a newspaper wildly over his head.

"Of all the damned dirty businesses," he cried, "this is the damnedest
and dirtiest I ever got up against! 'Combined attack," he quoted,
striking the printed words with his fist. "Do you know the name of that
combination? Dermott McDermott, that's its name. There may be a few
others mixed up in it--Mari