at him with a sweet wideness that made it harder. "I don't know
how to tell you, and I don't know how to resign myself to it either, but
I--I can't take you to the theater. I--I've got to--got to--well, you
see, I've got to be with Billy."

She spoke quickly at that. "Mr. Fairfax, is Billy really ill--is there
something more than I understand? Why didn't you tell me? Has their
been an accident, perhaps? Why, I must go to him too--come--hurry--I'll
go with you, of course."

Rex stumbled again in his effort to quiet her alarm, to prevent this
scheme of seeking Billy on his couch of pain. "Oh no, indeed you mustn't
do that," he objected strenuously. "I couldn't let you, you know. I
don't want you to be bothered. Billy isn't ill at all--there hasn't been
any accident, I give you my word. He's all right--Billy's all right." He
had quite lost his prospective by now, and did not see the rocks upon
which he rushed.

"If Billy's all right, why isn't he here?" demanded Billy's cousin
severely.

Rex saw now. "He isn't exactly--that is to say--all right, you know. You
see how it is," and he gazed involuntarily at the sleeping giant huddled
on the truck.

"I do not see." The brown eyes had never looked at him so coldly before,
and their expression cut him.

"I'm glad you don't," he cried, and realized that the words had taken
him a step deeper into trouble. "It's just this way, Miss Margery--Billy
isn't hurt or ill, but he isn't--isn't feeling quite himself, and--and
I've got to--I've got to be with him." His voice sounded as if he were
going to cry, but it moved the girl to no pity.

"Oh!" she said, and her bewildered tone was a whole world removed from
the bright comradeship with which she had met him. "I see--you and Billy
have something else planned." Her face flushed suddenly. "I'm sorry I
misunderstood about--about the theater. I wouldn't for worlds have--have
seemed to force you to--" She stopped, embarrassed, hurt, but yet with
her graceful dignity untouched.

"Oh," the wretched Rex exclaimed impetuously, "if I could only take you
to the theater, I'd rather than--" but the girl stopped him.

"Never mind about that, please," she said, with gentle decision. "I
must go home--when is the next boat? One is going now--good-night, Mr.
Fairfax--no, don't come with me--I don't need you," and she was gone.

Two minutes later Strong's innocent slumbers were dispersed by a vicious
shake. "Wake up! wake up!" ordered Fairfax,