were to go back to her, I believe she'd welcome you with open arms."
"My poor Freda. . . . I believe she would. She was a good woman, a good wife. Little Freda! Some day, who knows?"
"Who knows?" echoed Noel. "You might do worse, Petrovitch. Think it over."
"Freda alive! Freda alive!" Petrovitch kept repeating. "My little Freda!" He turned to Noel. "You have saved me from crime. From crime against the law, and against that good woman who still loves me. I thank you."
"That's all right," said Noel, almost overcome by a variety of emotions. To himself he said:
"I'm beginning to like this fellow!"
He got up and held out his hand. Petrovitch also rose.
"Well, I'm afraid I must leave you now. Er . . . about Connie . . . she'll feel this, of course, but I think I can make all the necessary explanations. Will you trust me to break it to her as gently as possible? Naturally, I've said nothing to her about . . . Freda. I didn't feel I could until I'd seen you."
"Thank you. I will leave everything to you. Connie has a great heart, and I think she will not grieve too much if she knows that I but
