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 stand foah it, though, I'm suah of that. He'd nevah let me be persecuted and insulted the way I am being every day of my life. He'd do somethin'!"

She looked expectantly at Jock. He said the only thing he could think of that might be what she was waiting for. "What do you suppose that he would do?"

"Oh," cried Eunice, "what difference does it make what he'd do? He's gone—and I haven't got anybody"

"You have me," Jock reminded her quietly. "You know very well I'll do anything in my power, for Brad's sake. And—for your sake, too, of course. But what is there I can do? I don't see"

Eunice interrupted. "Wheah I come from," she said—and even the inflections of her voice on these first four words struck Jock as ominous, "wheah I come from, when a girl has been put in a compromisin' position, and theah is scandal around about her and some man, no mattah whethah it's his fault or not, the man—if he's honorable—offahs her the protection of his name"

Silence, surcharged. Then Jock heard someone who sounded like himself at long distance say incredulously, "You mean—you think I ought to marry you—on account of this thing?"

"I mean I think that's what Brad would want you to do under the circumstances," answered Eunice, low.

Her gaze was upon him, her expression a thing mixed and undecipherable. But Jock was not looking at Eunice. He was looking once more toward the picture of Brad in the polychrome frame on the table. He was questioning it silently, fearfully. And he saw the picture nod at him. . . he would have sworn