"First tell me about Max."
"Yes, I must tell you about Max. I am afraid it will be an added grief to you to know that Max——"
"What is it?" he asked, sharply and apprehensively, as she hesitated. How familiar to him was that feeling of apprehension about his brother. Hilda was sitting erect in the big chair, looking at him fixedly.
"Max—shot himself."
"My God! Shot himself! Poor girl!"
The expression on Hilda's face changed to one of relief—almost of joy. After all, his first thought had been for her.
"Why did he—how did it happen?"
"He had had troubles——"
"Money?"
She nodded.