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 *ing at the parsonage door. The white-capped maid answered and said she would find out if Miss Harting could see him. He entered and waited.

He did not have to wait long before Janet appeared, his heartstrings giving a tug as he beheld her in a simple morning gown. In her blue eyes there was a look of wonder, not wholly free from apprehension.

"I—I could hardly believe you were here—so early," she said, scanning his face as if seeking to find there some explanation of this unusual call. "Has—has anything happened?"

"I beg your pardon for coming at this hour," he returned, "but I simply couldn't wait. I hope you understand me and believe me, Janet, when I say that I am your sincere friend, something I hope to prove to your entire satisfaction. Taking the privilege of a friend whose motives cannot be questioned, I must tell you how much I regret having seen you yesterday with the man who calls himself Locke."

Her face did not harden, for there was nothing of hardness in her nature, but it changed, warning him that he was treading on most dangerous ground. She lifted her hand quickly, retreating a step.

"If that is what brings you here, I am sorry you