aware that Gregg rejoiced in a most extraordinarily hetrogeneous acquaintance and he supposed that one of Gregg's uncritical friends was putting him up. Later Billy did become worried; but he was feeling only indignation against Gregg and injury from him as he climbed the stairs and opened the door of his apartment.
"Hello, Bill!" said Gregg's voice instantly, cheerful as ever. "Get my wire?"
"Where in the world have you been?" Billy demanded, shutting the door behind him and staring into the living room at Gregg who had jumped up from his chair surrounded by cigarette smoke.
He asked that before having a good look at Gregg; for, as soon as he saw him, Billy emphatically amended with:
"What in the devil have you been doing?"
"Been in a fight," said Gregg, frankly and cheerily.
"And got the worst of it; that's plain."
"Oh, you haven't seen the other fellow, Bill. How's Mr. Hale now and the family—Marjorie, Bill?"
"All right," Billy replied quickly. "What took you to Freeport, Gregg?"
"Oh," said Gregg. "A freight train. Nothing's happened about Mr. Hale, then, since I've been gone?"
"No; Gregg, what have you been up to? Has it been about my affair, Gregg—I mean about Marjorie's father and"
Bill's indignation and criticism against Gregg suddenly broke in a flash-up of partial understanding of his friend as he stared into Gregg's eyes; and with this mingled Billy's misery about Marjorie.
"Old fellow," said Gregg, dropping his defense of banter, "I'll tell you what it was; I ran across Russell
