"I can't tell you where I live!" he said hoarsely.
"In the name of heaven, why not?" Anthony snapped.
"Because—because—well, you may not understand this, sir, but I promised father I wouldn't tell any one where we live."
"What?"
"I did, and I can't break a promise!" David insisted. "You see, father was rich once, and he's terribly proud. He doesn't want any one to know we live in such a poor place, because somebody he used to know might hear of it and try to help him, and that would break father's heart."
"His heart's in pretty bad shape, isn't it?" Johnson Boller muttered.
"Frightful!" said David. "And that's why I'll have to go now and explain to him and think it all over and——"
"Why think it over?" Anthony rasped. "Isn't your mind made up now?"
"Of course it is," the boy said hastily. "Only I'll have to tell father and then come back here in the morning, Mr. Fry; only—I have, to go home now!"
His voice broke strangely.