"There was one other promise, Philip," replied Adare quickly.
"There must have been one other promise, that you would never take
my girl away from me. If you did not swear to that, I am your
enemy!"

"That promise was unnecessary," said Philip. "Outside of my
Josephine's world there is nothing for me. If there is room for me
in Adare House--"

"Room!" interrupted Adare, beginning to throw off his great fur
coat. "Why, I've dreamed of the day when there'd be half a dozen
babies under my feet. I--" His huge frame suddenly stiffened. He
looked at Josephine, and his voice dropped to a hoarse whisper:
"Where's the kid?" he asked.

Philip saw Josephine turn at the question. Silently she pointed to
the curtained bed. As her father moved toward it she went to the
door, but not before Philip had taken a step to intercept her. He
felt her shuddering.

"I must go to my mother," she whispered for him alone. "I will
return soon. If he asks--tell him that we named the baby after
him." With a swift glance in her father's direction she whispered
still lower: "He knows nothing about you, so you may tell him the
truth about yourself--except that you met me in Montreal eighteen
months ago, and married me there."

With this warning she was gone. From the curtains Philip heard a
deep breath. When he came to the other's side John Adare stood