CHAPTER XIV. A MIDNIGHT MESSENGER
"My dear Helen, don't you realize that my official position carries with it a certain social obligation which it is our duty to discharge?"
"I suppose so, Uncle Arthur; but I would much rather stay at home."
"Tut, tut! Go and have a good time."
"Dancing doesn't appeal to me any more. I left that sort of thing back home. Now, if you would only come along—"
"No—I'm too busy. I must work to-night, and I'm not in a mood for such things, anyhow."
"You're not well," his niece said. "I have noticed it for weeks. Is it hard work or are you truly ill? You're nervous; you don't eat; you're growing positively gaunt. Why—you're getting wrinkles like an old man." She rose from her seat at the breakfast-table and went to him, smoothing his silvered head with affec
