I must have dozed in my chair, for I did not hear Katie come in or go to the kitchen.  The first thing that aroused me was a voice that I knew, the high-pitched tones of Lillian Gale Underwood.

“I tell you, Dicky-bird, it won’t do.  She’s got to know the truth.”

As Mrs. Underwood’s shrill voice struck my ears, I sprang to my feet in dismay.

My first thought was of the sick woman over whom I was watching.  Both Dr. Pettit and the nurse, Miss Sonnot, had warned us that excitement might be fatal to their patient.

And the one thing in the world that might be counted on to excite my mother-in-law was the presence of the woman whose voice I heard in conversation with my husband.

I rose noiselessly from my chair and went into the living room, closing the door after me.  Then with my finger lifted warningly for silence I forced a smile of greeting to my lips as Lillian Underwood saw me and came swiftly toward me.

“Dicky’s mother is asleep,” I said in a low tone.  “I am afraid I must ask you to come into the kitchen, for she awakens so easily.”

Lillian nodded comprehendingly, but Dicky flushed guiltily as they followed me into the kitchen.  Katie had left a few minutes before to run an errand for me.

Dicky’s voice interrupted the words Lillian was about to speak to me.  I hardly recognized it, hoarse, choked with feeling as it was.

“Lillian,” he said, “you shall not do this.  There is no need for you to bring all those old, horrible memories back.  You have buried them and have had a little peace.  If Madge is the woman I take her for she will be generous enough not to ask it, especially when I give her my word of honor that there is nothing in my past or yours which could concern her.”

“You have the usual masculine idea of what might concern a woman,” Lillian retorted tartly.

But I answered the appeal I had heard in my husband’s voice even more than in his words.

“You do not need to tell me anything, Mrs. Underwood,” I said gently, and at the words Dicky moved toward me quickly and put his arm around me.

I flinched at his touch.  I could not help it.  It was one thing to summon courage to refuse the confidence for which every tortured nerve was calling—­it was another to bear the affectionate touch of the man whose whole being I had just heard cry out in attempt to protect this other woman.

Dicky did not notice any shrinking, but Mrs. Underwood saw it.  I think sometimes nothing ever escapes her eyes.  She came closer to me, gravely, steadily.

“You are very brave, Mrs. Graham, very kind, but it won’t do.  Dicky, keep quiet.”  She turned to him authoritatively as he started to speak.  “You know how much use there is of trying to stop me when I make up my mind to anything.”

She put one hand upon my shoulder.

“Dear child,” she said earnestly, “will you trust me till tomorrow?  I had thought that I must tell you right away, but your splendid generous attitude makes it possible for me to ask you this.  I can see there is no place here where we can talk undisturbed.  Besides, I must take no chance of your mother-in-law’s finding out that I am here.  Will you come to my apartment tomorrow morning any time after 10?  Harry will be gone by then, and we can have the place to ourselves.”