Carlin shook his head.  The letter had given him the facts, and no additional details could alter the situation.  It was as if a dead body were lying in the next room awaiting interment; when the time came he would step in and look at it, ask the hour of burial, and step out again.

“I came as soon as I’d read your letter,” he said slowly examining one by one his rough fingers bunched together in his lap.  “We got chuck-a-block on Second Avenue or I’d have been here before.  Why didn’t you let me know sooner?” As he spoke he shifted his gaze to the wrinkles in her throat—­a new anxiety rising as he noticed how many more had gathered since he saw her last.

“She wouldn’t have it, and I want to tell you that you’ve got to be careful, as it is.  And mind you don’t speak too sudden to her.”

In answer he craned his head as if to see around the jamb of the door leading into the smaller room and, lowering his voice, whispered:  “Is she here now?”

“No, but she will be in a few minutes; she’s often late, she waits until it’s dark.”

“How long has she been here with you?”

“About two weeks.”

“Two weeks!  You didn’t tell me that.”

“She wouldn’t let me.  She is having trouble enough and I have to do pretty much as she wants.”

He ruminated for a moment, this time scrutinizing the palms of his hands, seemingly interested in some callous spots near the thumb-joint, and then asked:  “How did she find you?”

“By God’s mercy and nothing else.  I was sitting in a Third Avenue car and there she was opposite.  I couldn’t believe my eyes, she was that changed!  She would have been off the dock, I believe, if she hadn’t found me.  She has run away from Dalton now, and is so scared of him she trembles every time some one comes up the stairs.  That’s why I wrote you not to ring.  He has nothing left.  He kept a-hounding her to write to her father and nigh drove her crazy; so she left him.”

“Does she know Mr. Felix is here?” He had finished with the callous spots and was cracking every horny knuckle in his fingers as he spoke, as if their loosening might help solve the problem that vexed him.

“No, I haven’t dared tell her.  She would be off the dock for sure then.  She is more afraid of him than she is of Dalton.”

“Mr. Felix won’t hurt her,” he rejoined sharply.

“Yes, but she knows she’d hurt him if he finds out how bad she’s off.  She’d rather he’d think she’s living like she used to do.  Oh, Stephen—­Stephen, but it’s a bad, bad business!  I’m beat out wondering what ought to be done.”

She pushed back her chair, and began walking up and down the room like one whose suffering can find no other relief, pausing now and then to speak to him as she passed.  “I tried to get her to listen.  I told her Mr. Felix might be coming over from London.  I had to put it to her that way, but she nearly went out of her mind, stiffened up, and began to put on such a wild look that I had to stop.  Have you heard from him lately?”