bluntly.

He was silent for a moment before he met her eyes.

"I have no proof of it. All I have is Edna's assurance in a letter."

Their gaze held while they read each other's thoughts. She made no
comment; there was nothing to say to this, nor did she show surprise or
repugnance at the dark shadow his answer had flung across the meagre
picture.

"And Garrison--who was he?"

"I don't know even that! From all I could learn I think it likely he was
a student in one of the professional schools; but whether law or
medicine, art or music--I couldn't determine. The whole colony of
students had scattered to the four winds. Probably Garrison was not his
real name; but that is wholly an assumption."

"It's clear enough that whoever the man was, and whether it was straight
or not, Edna felt bound to shield him. That's just like us fool women.
How did Sylvia come to your hands?"

"There was nothing in that to help. About four years had passed since I
lost track of her and I had traveled all over the East and followed
every clue in vain. I spent two summers in New York walking the streets
in the blind hope that I might meet her. Then, one day,--this was twelve
years ago,--I had a telegram from the superintendent of a public
hospital at Utica that Edna was there very ill. She died before I got
there. Just how she came to be in that particular place I have no idea.