stairs, thanked heaven that Russell had gone. She ran to her father's door and went in.
Adams looked at her, and gesticulated shakily at the convulsive figure on the floor. "Can you get her out of here?"
Alice helped Mrs. Adams to her feet; and the stricken woman threw her arms passionately about her daughter.
"Get her out!" Adams said, harshly; then cried, "Wait!"
Alice, moving toward the door, halted, and looked at him blankly, over her mother's shoulder. "What is it, papa?"
He stretched out his arm and pointed at her. "She says—she says you have a mean life, Alice."
"No, papa."
Mrs. Adams turned in her daughter's arms. "Do you hear her lie? Couldn't you be as brave as she is, Virgil?"
"Are you lying, Alice?" he asked. "Do you have a mean time?"
"No, papa."
He came toward her. "Look at me!" he said. "Things like this dance now—is that so hard to bear?"
