ned cold. The others had heard every word. She had spoken without
reserve, without the slightest indication of nervousness or compunction.
The very thing that he feared had come to pass. She had put herself
definitely on record. He glanced quickly about, searching the faces of the
other occupants of the room. His gaze fell upon Wade, and rested for a
second or two. Something told him that Wade's gaze would shift,--and it
did.

"I did everything, Anne. Thank you for believing in me." That was all. No
word of sympathy, no mawkish mumbling of regret, no allusion to his own
loss. He looked again into her eyes, this time in quest of the motive that
urged her to make this unnecessary declaration. Was there a deeper
significance to be attached to her readiness to assume responsibility? He
looked for the light in her eye that would convince him that she was
taking this stand because of the love she felt for him. He was
immeasurably relieved to find no secret message there. She had not stooped
to that, and he was gratified. Her eyes were clouded with concern for him,
that was all. He was ashamed of himself for the thought,--and afterwards he
wondered why he should have been ashamed. After all, it was only right
that she should be sorry for him. He deserved that much from her.

An awkward silence ensued. Simmy Dodge coughed nervously, and then Braden
advanced to greet Mrs. Tresslyn. She did not rise. Her gloved hand was
extended and he took it without hesitation.

"It is good to see you again, Braden," she said, with the bland,
perfunctory parting of the lips that stands for a smile with women of her
class. He meant nothing to her now.

"Thanks," he said, and moved on to George, who regarded him with some
intensity for a moment and then gripped his hand heartily. "How are you,
George?"

"Fine! First stage of regeneration, you know. I'm glad to see you, Brady."

There was such warmth in the repressed tones that Thorpe's hand clasp
tightened. Tresslyn was still a friend. His interest quickened into a keen
examination of the young man who had pronounced himself in the first stage
of regeneration, whatever that may have signified to one of George's type.
He was startled by the haggard, sick look in the young fellow's face.
George must have read the other's expression, for he said: "I'm all
right,--just a little run down. That's natural, I suppose."

"He has a dreadful cold," said Anne, who had overheard. "I can't get him
to do