BILLIE, because she was in Portland, knew nothing of all this pother; and Henry was beginning to need her. He felt drained and weakened by the steadily dripping reproaches of three long days. He was a young man who had thrived upon the general good will and suddenly the general good will was taken from him. The girl was his great untapped reservoir of moral strength.
"I must see you, Billie," he confided over the long-distance wire, "I hate to have you breaking off your visit for me but I need you something awful."
"I'd break off anything for you," purred Billie's voice vibrant with the instinctive perceptions of love. "I'll take the morning boat and be in at three o'clock."
"Oh, you—you darling!" murmured Henry gratefully.
When the conversation was over he boasted to himself: "A brick house doesn't have to fall on that girl. It's going to hurt her when I tell her though. I—I must be very, very careful. But shell be game. She'll wink the tears away and help."
Henry slept that night, and in the morning rose up strong, prepared to resist like adamant that wearing stream which would again be turned upon his resolution. But, to his surprise, there was no wearing stream. Callers came and went, but during the entire morning there was not one reference to the defense of Adam
