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 CHAPTER

XXII

War work Osterhout was able to do in the two days following Pat’s revelation was mainly mechanical. Neither his mind nor his rea: interest were enlisted. Pat’s supposed situation absorbed both. There were so many phases to that problem! If only Mona were alive. That thought came to him with more poignancy than for a long time past. He would have taken Pat’s secret to her at once, without hesitancy. Could he take it to any other member of the family? Certainly not Ralph Fentriss. Nor the helpless Constance. Dee? He shrank from that idea with an invincible reluctance. Life, he more than suspected, was nct treating Dee over-tenderly. He took his perplexities out into the bluster and whirl of a wild afternoon, and came back weary and a little quieted to find the subject of them stretched out on his divan, fast asleep. Her face, he observed pitifully, showed not only exhaustion but a deeper strain. He touched her limp hand and spoke her name softly. At once she sprang half erect, like a startled animal. “Oh, Bobs! It’s you. I’m so glad you’ve come. afraid, Bobs.”

I’m

“No, dear; you mustn’t let yourself be,” he soothed her. “There’s nothing is “You don’t understand. And I’ve got to tell you That’s what I’m scared about.” ‘“Haven’t you told me the whole thing, Bambina?”

“No. VIl—T’ll tell you on the way over to Dee’s.” “To Dee’s?” 231