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to my clumsy behavior. I do hope no blame will attach to Celia.”
    “Yes, I understand,” said Kurt.
    “I am quite willing to pay for any damage; it was entirely due to my idiotic clumsiness.”
    “That is all right,” said Kurt. “Please go to your luncheon. You need not be anxious that I will blame Celia.”
    The young man departed with relief. Kurt said:
    “Sit down. ”
    Celia sank on to a chair, still holding the table napkin to her arm. She was very pale, not because she was hurt, but because the suddenness of the collision had been a shock, and the whole incident had humiliated her by bringing her, once more, into such a position before Mr. St. Pierre. It seemed to her that everything was happening that would place her in a more and more unfavorable light.
    “Drink this,” said Kurt, coming to her with a small glass.
    She made an effort to smile at him.
    “No, thank you, sir. I am quite all right.”
    “Drink it,” he said.
    She took the glass in her trembling hand, and drank the brandy in sips. The napkin had stuck to her arm.
    “Wait a moment,” said Kurt. He went away and came b ack with a small bowl of warm water in which he had poured antiseptic, and a pad of cotton wool. “Now,” he said, “we will look at your arm.”
    He spread a cloth over her lap, and took her arm in his hands. He began to remove the napkin, but it was firmly stuck. He began to wash it off with the cotton wool soaked in the warm water, but when he had almost finished, and had turned to soak the pad again, the weight of the material itself pulled it away from the wound, and Celia exclaimed in pain, in spite of herself. The blood began to flow again.
    Kurt turned at her exclamation, and came quickly to her.
    “Hmmm,” he said, for the cut was long and deep. “You have hurt yourself badly. We must stop this bleeding. It seems to be quite clean, so we will bind it up at once.”
    With hands that were gentle in spite of their firmness he set about bandaging the wound. Celia, still suffering from shock, feeling a little sick, and touched by the quiet gravity of his voice when she had expected more severity or another reprimand, found, to her horror, that tears had sprung to her eyes and threatened to overflow on to her ch e ek s. She did her best to blink them back, telling herself not to look foolish in front of him. He was quick and skilful and soon had the bandage in place.
    “I hope I didn’t give you much pain,” he said, looking up at her face. Then he saw that her eyes were brimming with tears.
    “Oh, come,” he said, “this won’t do.”
    In spite of her determination, the tears overflowed and ran down her cheeks. She was chagrined to behave in this fashion.
    He removed the cloth and the bowl, and put them aside. He back to her, and standing a little behind her, put his hand on her shoulder, firmly, reassuringly. “Now, now,” he said, “don’t do that.” His other hand offered her a clean, white handkerchief, which she took gratefully, and held to her eyes. Suddenly, wearily, she felt at peace. H er shaking had stopped, her feeling of humiliation had drained away, and under the touch of his hand on her shoulder, she felt content.
    Then he took his hand away, and she was aware of coldness and emptiness where his warmth had been.
    “You have had a shock,” he said, “and I expect your arm is throbbing.”
    He was excusing her tears, she thought. She straggled to rise, prepared to go.
    “You have been so kind,” she said.
    “Stay where you are, and rest a little. Had you eaten your lunch?”
    “Yes.”
    ‘Then you must have a cup of coffee.” He rang a bell and ordered coffee for her. While they waited, he did not speak. He stood at the window, looking out, and was so still that Celia had not an inkling of his thoughts or his mood. Perhaps, she thought, I am being a nuisance, though certainly it was not my fault that that young giant should knock me down so violently, all among the broken glass , But I