her. But I can't keep it secret any longer. Don't you understand?'
'But, Sheilah'
'You'll help me, won't you?'
'Of course.'
'And tell mother?'
'Why, of course, but'
'I knew you would. I'm so glad there's you. I think I can go to sleep now, if you wouldn't mind too awfully sitting by my bed awhile. Don't leave me alone. Oh, father, I'm so glad I've told you about Felix.'
Was five o'clock in the morning too early to call up John Sheldon? Was five-fifteen? Was five-twenty? How the minutes crawled! Sitting there beside Sheilah in the gray dawn, filtering through the ruffled windows like white fog, the fear in Sidney Miller's heart grew less phantasmical, more clearly defined, along with the outlines of the furniture in the room, as the light increased.
Hadn't he just been thinking, as he had held Sheilah in his arms an hour ago, how grown-up she was? Almost a woman? It was possible, then, wasn't it? Mistakes—young, impulsive, innocent mistakes, trailing their horrible results after them, were made sometimes. But it couldn't happen to
