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"What do you think of doing, sonny?" he asked, after a moment. "I? Why, what is there for me to do?" Piers glanced round momentarily. "I wonder what you'd do, Crowther," he said, with a smile that was scarcely gay. Crowther came to his side, and stood there massively, while he filled his pipe. "Piers," he said, "I presume she knows all there is to know of that bad business?"

But as he came straight down to Crowther and wrung his hand, his dark face was smiling a welcome. He was in riding-dress, and looked very handsome and young. "How did you know it was I? Awfully pleased to see you! Sorry I couldn't get back sooner. I've been riding like the devil. Avery explained, did she?" He threw himself into a chair, and tossed an envelope into her lap.

"I'm a selfish brute if I let you," he said, irresolutely. "You can't help yourself, my son." Crowther turned calm eyes upon him. "And now just sit down here and write a line home to say what you are going to do!" He had cleared a space upon the table; he pulled forward a chair. "Oh, I can't! I can't!" said Piers quickly. But Crowther's hand was on his shoulder. He pressed him down. "Do it, lad!

Here he stood for many seconds quite motionless, gazing down over the quiet garden. Finally he swung round, and looked at Crowther. "Yes," he said, in an odd tone as of one repeating something learned by heart. "I've got to remember that, haven't I? Thanks for reminding me!" He stopped, seemed to collect himself, moved slowly forward. "You're a good chap, Crowther," he said.

"Then I'll try and be glad too," sobbed poor Gracie. "But it's very, very difficult. Pat and I loved him so, and he he loved us." "My dear, that love won't die," Avery said gently. "The gift immortal," said Crowther. "The only thing that counts." She looked round at him quickly, but his eyes were gazing straight into the sunset steadfast eyes that saw to the very heart of things.

The same thought struck Crowther a few hours later as Piers sat with him in his room, and devoted himself with considerable adroitness to making his fire burn through as quickly as possible, the while he briefly informed him that his wife was considered practically out of danger and had no further use for him for the present. Crowther's heart sank at the news though he gave no sign of dismay.

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when Mr. Linden was announced, and presently in walked that gentleman in a state of considerable excitement. "I told you," he began, "some time ago about Crowther & Jenkins being the persons in whose names Catherine Arnold's money stood in the funds?"

"No reason at all," flung back Piers, still with his face to the stars. "She knows that as well as I do. I tell you, Crowther, I know the way to that woman's heart, and I could find it blindfold. She is mine already." "And doesn't know it?" suggested Crowther. "Yes, she does in her heart of hearts, or soon will. I shall send her a post-card to-morrow and sum up the situation." "On a post-card?"

But she says if it is only a cold, it will do you no harm to see her." "But you told her I was in bed, didn't you?" "Of course. But it makes no difference. She says she's used to seeing sick folk in bed; and if you don't mind seeing her, she doesn't mind seeing you." "Well, I suppose I must see her," I said. So my sister made me a little tidier, and introduced Miss Crowther.

He gripped both hand and wrist with nervous fingers, holding them almost as though he would force from him the information he desired. Crowther waited no longer, for he knew in that moment that he stood in the presence of a soul in torment. "You'll have to know it," he said, "though why these things happen, God alone knows. Sonny, she is the widow of the man whose death you caused."