head. "I unnerstan', M'sieur Taylor. Eet iss spring. All de bird, she buil' nest; all de animal, she maak lofe. An' a yo'ng man, she feel her 'eart turn ofer, too. Eh?"
He laughed and others laughed and John flushed. He was conscious of Goddard's eyes on him with glowering ill temper.
Helen did not return till after dusk. Taylor had been walking the river bank, miserable and at once impatient and filled with dread. He saw her standing beside her desk, scanning intently a single sheet of paper. He ran forward. His rap was most perfunctory; he opened the screen and stepped in.
She turned and faced him and he saw fright in her face that chilled his heart. Just for that instant, and then she turned and went unsteadily across the room saying:
"I can't talk to you—Mr. Taylor—tonight."
Did she know? Was she aware of what he had done? He managed to say:
"Wait, Helen!" There was that in his husky tone which checked her against the far door. Breath clogged in his throat, but he heard himself saying: "Tell me why you can't talk to me."
He crossed the room toward her, bound to hold her there if necessary, to tell his wretched story quickly, to save himself not at all, and to offer all he had to offer as help.
He was decisive, showing a strength she had not seen before, a power which held her there. He stopped within arm's length of the girl and looked into her face. He saw no anger, no resentment; just misery. She was unpoised, she was shaken, like a little girl who has been badly frightened.
