“Now!” he said.

She met his look with a brave face.  She even smiled—­a gallant, little smile to which he made no response.  “Well, now,” she said, “I want you to tell me the quickest way to get to Guy.”

He faced her squarely.  “I’ve got to tell you something about him first,” he said.

“Yes?” Her heart was beating very quickly, but she had herself well in hand.  “What is it?”

But he stood mutely considering her.  It was as if the power of speech had suddenly gone from him.

“What is it?” she said again.  “Won’t you tell me?”

He made a curious gesture.  It was almost a movement of flinching.  “You’re so young,” he said.

“Oh, but I’m not—­I’m not!” she assured him.  “It’s only my face.  I’m quite old really.  I’ve been through a lot.”

“You’ve never seen life yet,” he said.

“I have!” she declared with an odd vehemence.  “I’ve learnt lots of things.  Why—­do you look like that?  I’m not a child.”

Her voice quivered a little in spite of her.  Why did he look like that?  The compassion in his eyes smote her with a strange pain.  Why—­why was he sorry for her?

He saw her rising agitation, and spoke, slowly, choosing his words.  “The fact is, Guy isn’t what you take him for—­isn’t the right man for you.  Nothing on this earth can make him so now, whatever he may have been once.  He’s taken the wrong turning, and there’s no getting back.”

She gazed at him with wide eyes.  Her lips felt stiff and cold.  “What—­what—­do you mean, please?” she said.

She saw his hands clench.  “I don’t want to tell you what I mean,” he said.  “Haven’t I said enough?”

She shook her head slowly, with drawn brows.  “No—­no!  I’ve got to understand.  Do you mean Guy doesn’t want me after all?  Didn’t he really mean me to come?  He—­sent a message.”

“I know.  That’s the infernal part of it.”  Burke Ranger spoke with suppressed force.  “He was blind drunk when he sent it.”

“Oh!” She put up her hands to her face for a moment as if to shield herself from a blow.  “He—­drinks, does he?”

“He does everything he ought not to do, except steal,” said Ranger bluntly.  “I’ve tried to keep him straight—­tried every way.  I can’t.  It isn’t to be done.”

Sylvia’s hands fell again.  “Perhaps,” she said slowly, “perhaps I could.”

The man started as if he had been shot.  “You!” he said.

She met his look with her wide eyes.  “But why not?” she said.  “We love each other.”

He turned from her, grinding the floor with his heel.  “God help me to make myself intelligible!” he said.

It was the most forcible prayer she had ever heard.  It struck through to her very soul.  She stood motionless, but she felt crushed and numb.

Ranger walked to the end of the room and then came straight back to her.