former cross-examining tone.

"Yes."

Again the doctor kept silence. Despite her assumed
courage and determined air, his experienced
eye caught beneath it all the shrinking helplessness
of the woman.

"Then I, too, have reached a sudden resolve,"
he said in a manner almost professional in its precision.
"You cannot and shall not go alone."

"Oh, but Lucy and I can get along together,"
she exclaimed with nervous haste. "There is no
one we could take but Martha, and she is too old.
Besides she must look after the house while we are
away."

"No; Martha will not do. No woman will do.
I know Paris and its life; it is not the place for two
women to live in alone, especially so pretty and
light-hearted a woman as Lucy."

"I am not afraid."

"No, but I am," he answered in a softened voice,
"very much afraid." It was no longer the physician
who spoke, but the friend.