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 him—to his child, could it? It couldn't happen to Sheilah! Of course not! There would be something fine in Sheilah that would protect and shield her always. Even if she was ignorant. But Dora had often boasted to him that she wasn't ignorant. Oh, perhaps it was a mistake telling girls so much so soon. Perhaps it made them dwell on such things, and broke down their instinctive fineness. Five-thirty. Only five-thirty? Good Lord!

What exactly had Sheilah said, anyway? For the dozenth time he reviewed her few broken, despairing sentences before she fell asleep. 'I've got to marry him. Don't you understand? I've fought against it, but now I can't get away from it. I've tried to keep it secret, but I can't any longer.' Substantiating. Horribly substantiating. And so was her physical condition—her inertia, her lack of appetite, her despondency. It had baffled them all. Even John Sheldon had had no satisfactory explanation to offer. Sidney got out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead. He couldn't endure this much longer.

He got up and stole out of the room when the hall-clock struck six. He didn't care how early it was. He simply must talk to John Sheldon. John would put an end to this torturing uncertainty. It was unreasonable, he supposed, to rout a man out of bed at such an hour, just because you were racked by a fear that might prove groundless. Oh, if it only did