"No, Mr. Byrd, I am from the Home for Dependent Children—I am one of the inspectors."
"Ah, I see. You wish to—to inspect her," I blundered on stupidly, whereat she laughed.
"No—not exactly," she smiled. "To tell the truth, Mr. Byrd, I wish to inspect you—"
"Well, this is all there is of me," I broke in.
"And I want," she added, "to take her back to the Home."
"Take her back!" I cried, stung by something in her tone. "But—but why?"
"We don't allow our girls to live in the homes of bachelors," she murmured, lowering her eyes for an instant.
"Oh!" I gasped feebly. It is my eternal wrongness that seems to be at the bottom of everything. The picture of the children upon my hands without the girl Alicia swept me with a chill dismay.
"It ought to have been reported to us," she said reprovingly. "It really ought."
"What ought to have been reported?" I groped in bewilderment.