With his hands on her shoulders, he gave an easy laugh. "Who knows?
But you mustn't have it on your mind. It isn't good for you."

"I shall always have you on my mind--."

"But not to worry about, baby. I'm not worth it--."

Hilda came in with the evening paper. "Have you read it, Doctor?"

"No." He glanced at the headlines and his face grew hard. "More
frightfulness," he said, stormily. "If I had my way, it should be an
eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. For every man they have tortured,
there should be one of their men--tortured. For every child mutilated,
one of theirs--mutilated. For every woman--."

He stopped. Jean had caught hold of his arm. "Don't, Daddy," she said
thickly, "it makes me afraid of you." She covered her face with her
hands.

He drew her to him and smoothed her hair in silence. Over her head he
glanced at Hilda. She was smiling inscrutably into the fire.




CHAPTER III

DRUSILLA