"Joyce!" Ruth Dale was crouching at her feet.
"I am—so tired." A long sigh broke from Joyce's lips. "Please do not make it harder. It must be; and I have much to do."
"But—there may be some mistake." A horrible fear shook Ruth Dale. Joyce rose and confronted the woman who knelt on the floor.
"Do you believe there is?" she flung the question madly. "Do you?" There was no faltering, only a stern command.
"No," shuddered Ruth Dale.
"Then please, go. My part is all—over! But—be—oh! be heavenly good to him."
Blinded and staggering under the blow, Ruth Dale got to her feet and went from the house. The outer cold steadied her somewhat, but when, a half-hour later, she entered Ralph Drew's study, the man by the fire gazed upon her as if she were a stranger.
"What has happened?" he asked affrightedly, springing to her side.
She let him take her icy hands in his. "I've found—John!" she gasped hoarsely.
"John—who? Sit down, Ruth. You have had a terrible fright." He put her firmly, but gently in his own arm-chair. "Tell me all about it," he urged quietly.