he was grinning idiotically, yet he could not stop. He tried to speak,
but his lips seemed too swollen to form words. He put out his hand to
grasp a chair, and perceived that he could not reach it.

"I--fall!" he managed to ejaculate.

Mrs. Herman caught him, and supported him to a chair. He felt her arm
around him, and he wondered how he came to be thus embraced. He tried
to grope back into the dusk of his mind to tell what had happened, and
the fiery glow of the moment in which he had kissed the hand of Mrs.
Fenton came back to him. He sat suddenly erect.

"Cousin Helen," he said, with husky fervor, "I have been a wretch, and
I rejoice in it! I have found out how sweet it is to sin! I am lost,
lost, lost!"

He buried his face in his hands, almost hysterical. He felt his
cousin's hand on his shoulder.

"Philip," she said decisively, "you must stop this, and tell me what
has happened."

"I beg your pardon," he answered, dropping his hands. "Mrs. Fenton was
attacked by a drunken man in the North End, and I fought him. I am
afraid that I am pretty disreputable looking."

"Yes, you are. I hope that is the worst of it."

She took him by the arm and led him into the library, where she
established him in an easy-chair by the fire.