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" . . . Brad was wild ovah you, Jock," she was saying. "I don't think you evah realized how deah you were to him. He'd have done anythin' foah you. Anythin' undah the sun. He often said so, and I knew it anyhow. Just the night befoah—befoah that night, we were talkin' about you, and he said that you were the best friend he evah had or evah would have—that he'd do anythin' foah you and he was suah you'd do the same foah him——"

"I sincerely hope I would have," Jock said.

Eunice threw him a brief glance, dropping her eyes again quickly. "He loved me so," she proceeded. "I've been thinkin' a lot about that since he's gone. He wouldn't let anythin' trouble me, evah, foah a minute. He just took all the cahes and responsibilities right off my shoulders. I nevah knew what it was to worry until lately . . ."

And on, and on, in this vein. About Brad, about herself, about Jock. Presently he could not listen with forbearance any longer. He cleared his throat. "Look here, Eunice! Quit beating about the bush, will you? Something's worrying you now, and you want me to help you—that's what you're trying to tell me, isn't it? Well, of course, I'll help you, and be glad to, if I can. So come on, out with it—what seems to be the matter?"

For reply she moved from her chair over to the lounge, where she sat patting the cushion beside her. "Come sit heah by me, Jock. I can talk to you bettah when you'ah not so fah away."

He complied indifferently, stretching his superb length in the corner that was farthest from her. He shoved his hands into his trousers pockets and rested his chin on his chest, and waited. His face where the lamplight kissed it obliquely looked stern and forbid-