“There I can’t help,” said Capes. But he died when he was a child—long ago—long ago—long ago. Wait!" He released himself from his aunt's embrace, ran to the trunk and fetched the old coat. He closed the door. " Prudence felt the hands stiffen oddly; and again the thought came to her that perhaps this poor child's father had once been, perhaps still was, in the same category as this Taber. The thought had not even occurred to him. . Mary is very good, but she is too nervous to be the slightest protection. Her father held some printed document in his hand, and appeared not to observe her entry. “I guess I’m not the only one who wonders about your past.
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