Part 45

"Aren't you going to kiss me, Fred?"

He put on his good-natured, slightly mocking smile. "I thought you were too busy for that sort of thing nowadays." And he bent and kissed her waiting lips. Then he lit a cigarette and seated himself on the sofa beside her--the sofa at right angles to the open fire. "Well?" he said.

She gazed into the fire for full a minute before she said in a voice of constraint, "What became of that--that girl--the Miss Hallowell----"

She broke off abruptly. There was a pause choked with those dizzy pulsations that fill moments of silence and strain. Then with a sob she flung herself against his breast and buried her face in his shoulder. "Don't answer!" she cried. "I'm ashamed of myself. I'm ashamed--ashamed!"

He put his arm about her shoulders. "But why shouldn't I answer?" said he in the kindly gentle tone we can all assume when a matter that agitates some one else is wholly indifferent to us.

"Because--it was a--a trap," she answered hysterically. "Fred--there was a man here this afternoon--a man named Tetlow. He got in only because he said he came from you."

Norman laughed quietly. "Poor Tetlow!" he said. "He used to be your head clerk--didn't he?"

"And one of my few friends."

"He's not your friend, Fred!" she cried, sitting upright and speaking with energy that quivered in her voice and flashed in her fine brown eyes. "He's your enemy--a snake in the grass--a malicious, poisonous----"

Norman's quiet, even laugh interrupted. "Oh, no," said he. "Tetlow's a good fellow. Anything he said would be what he honestly believed--anything he said about me."

"He pleaded that he was doing it for your good," she went on with scorn. "They always do--like the people that write father wicked anonymous letters. He--this man Tetlow--he said he wanted me for the sake of my love for you to save you from yourself."

Norman glanced at her with amused eyes. "Well, why don't you? But then you are doing it. You're marrying me, aren't you?"

Again she put her head upon his shoulder. "Indeed I am!" she cried. "And I'd be a poor sort if I let a sneak shake my confidence in you."

He patted her shoulder, and there was laughter in his voice as he said, "But I never professed to be trustworthy."

"Oh, I know you used to--" She laughed and kissed his cheek. "Never mind. I've heard. But while you were engaged to me--about to marry me--why, you simply couldn't!"

"Couldn't what?" inquired he.

"Do you want me to tell you what he said?"

"I think I know. But do as you like."

"Maybe I'd better tell you. I seem to want to get rid of it."

"Then do."

"It was about that girl." She sat upright and looked at him for encouragement. He nodded. She went on: "He said that if I asked you, you would not dare deny you were--were--giving her money."

"Her and her father."

She shrank, startled. Then her lips smiled bravely, and she said, "He didn't say anything about her father."

"No. That was my own correction of his story."

She looked at him with wonder and doubt. "You aren't--doing it, Fred!" she exclaimed.

He nodded. "Yes, indeed." He looked at her placidly. "Why not?"

"You are supporting her?"

"If you wish to put it that way," said he carelessly. "My money pays the bills--all the bills."