"The one where I stopped with you this morning?"

"Yes. Each time I go I vow I'll not go again. To-night, if I find things
as they were two hours ago, I'll discharge myself, and that will end it."

"Red, you're just as tired and worn as you can be. Come in to the big
couch, and let me make you comfortable, until dinner. You'll eat the
better for it--and you need it."

He yielded, reluctantly,--he who was always so willing to submit to her
ministrations. But he threw himself upon the couch with a long sigh, and
let her arrange the pillows under his head. She sat down beside him.

"Can't you tell me something about it, dear?" she suggested. "Nothing I
ought not to know, of course, but the thing which makes you so miserable.
It can't be because the case is going wrong,--that wouldn't affect you
just as this is doing."

"You've seen it, I suppose. I thought I'd kept in, before you." Burns
shut his eyes, his brows frowning.

She could have smiled, but did not. "You have--only of course I have seen
that something was wearing you--keeping you on a tension. You've not been
quite yourself for several days."

"I am myself. I'm the real fellow--only you haven't known him before. The
other is just--the devil disguised in a goodly garment, one that doesn't
belong to him."