"I hardly know where to begin," he commenced and hesitated. He seemed to be arranging the words in his mind, for, after a moment he resumed.
"I told you it wasn't any crime," he said. "Well, maybe it isn't, but Janet," he went on quickly, "while you were standing at the window of the club this afternoon, you saw a man—do you remember? He wore overalls. His face and hands were black. You said you saw a policeman push him back into the crowd, and you believed him to be drunk—— He was drunk, Janet——"
"How do you know?" she asked, quite indifferently, "did you see him again?"
"Yes, I saw him again," he said. "I saw him in a big restaurant that was crowded with students, men whom I know, whom I have eaten with, whose cheers till now have been—been inspiring to me——"
"John—really——" the girl put in impatiently. "I can't see why that drunk man should have made such an impression—that common laborer—nor what he can have to do——"
"Wait a moment," he remonstrated. "You remember, when you called my attention to him, I took you out across the field, and down town another way? Yes? Well, I had a reason. I didn't want that drunken man to see me—to see you——"
"But, dear," she exclaimed with a little laugh.
"It was my father," he said, quietly.
"John!"
Passion, shock, anger, perhaps pity, were all in the tone of her exclamation. Unconsciously she drew away from him.