"Poor man!" she said readily, in tones loud enough to reach Theron. "It
is our neighbor, Father, the Rev. Mr. Ware. He hit upon my name in
the register quite unexpectedly, and I had him come up. He is in sore
distress--a great and sudden bereavement. He is going now. Won't you
speak to him in the hall--a few words, Father? It would please him. He
is terribly depressed."

The words had drawn Theron to his feet, as by some mechanical process.
He took up his hat and moved dumbly to the door. It seemed to him that
Celia intended offering to shake hands; but he went past her with only
some confused exchange of glances and a murmured word or two. The tall
stranger, who drew aside to let him pass, had acted as if he expected to
be introduced. Theron, emerging into the hall, leaned against the wall
and looked dreamily at the priest, who had stepped out with him.

"I am very sorry to learn that you are in trouble, Mr. Ware," Father
Forbes said, gently enough, but in hurried tones. "Miss Madden is also
in trouble. I mentioned to you that her brother had got into a serious
scrape. I have brought my old friend, General Brady, to consult with
her about the matter. He knows all the parties concerned, and he can set
things right if anybody can."

"It's a mistake about me--I 'm not in any trouble at all," said Theron.
"I just dropped in to make a friendly call."

The priest glanced sharply at him, noting with a swift, informed
scrutiny how he sprawled against the wall, and what vacuity his eyes and
loosened lips expressed.