An hour later Bayard drew a chair to the bedside, seated himself and frowned steadily at the sleeping man.
"I've got to remember you're a cripple ... got to," he said, over and over. "For her sake, I must. An' I can't ... trust myself near her ... I can't!"
The drunken man roused himself with a start and stared blearily, unintelligently into the other's face.
"Tha's righ', Ole Man," he mumbled. "Tha's ri'...."
CHAPTER VIII
A HEART SPEAKS
With forebodings Bruce Bayard went to Ann Lytton the next day. She saw trouble on his face as he entered her room.
"What is it?" she asked, quietly, steadying herself, for she was ever ready for the worst.
He only continued to look gravely at her.