"It is better. Perhaps he will straighten up without—without——"
"I know what you mean, but I'm afraid not. I can see that he is getting worse and worse, although he is doing his best to remain the master. When the stuff becomes his master, then—oh, Frank!"
She put her thin hands over her face and shuddered. He felt like taking the poor little soubrette, whose life had been so devoid of sunshine, in his arms and trying to soothe her.
Cassie was restless beneath Frank's gaze.
"Why do you look at me like that?" she asked, almost petulantly. "You look so queer, Frank! You almost seem to be accusing me with your eyes."
"Don't misunderstand me, Cassie," he quickly implored. "I would not accuse you. Don't think that—don't!"
"But——"
"What should I accuse you of, Cassie?"
"Oh, you might think—that I—you might think something," she answered, evasively.