"No indeed—no indeed," he protested.
"Courtney sent me——"
"Courtney sent you!" he exclaimed in amazement.
"She told me all about it," Helen hastened on. "She asked me to let you know that she had told me—how you and Richard have had a bitter falling out over the work—and that you're going away, not to come back."
One look into those eyes was convincing; Helen believed what she was saying.
"She thought perhaps I might be able to help you about the packing. Can I?"
"No, but I'd be glad if you'd stop while Jimmie is doing it. I don't want to leave without saying good-by to you."
All the roses fled from Helen's cheeks. "Yes—certainly," she murmured.
"You'll excuse my being somewhat confused? The truth is I'm very much upset."
"I can't tell you how dreadfully I feel," said Helen. "Are you sure you and Richard—" She paused. Her glance stirred him like an angel face in a drunkard's dream—her face earnest, grieved, sympathetic, unable to credit anything so dreadful, so wicked as a parting in hate.