THE AMERICAN
"I had better not tell you," Newman mildly reasoned. "It won't do you any good."
"If you think it will do me any good not to tell me you're very much mistaken. There's trouble about your marriage."
"Yes. There's trouble about my marriage."
"Good!" With which Valentin again waited a little. "They've stopped it off."
"They've stopped it off," Newman admitted. Now that he had spoken out he found in it a relief that deepened as he went on. "Your mother and brother have broken faith. They've decided that it can't take place. They've decided I'm not good enough—when they come to think of it. They 've taken back their word. Since you want to know, there it is!" Valentin uttered a strange sound, thrice lifting his hands and letting them drop. "I'm sorry not to have anything better to tell you of them," Newman pursued. "But it's not my fault. I was indeed bewildered enough when your telegram reached me; I was quite upside down. You may imagine whether I feel any better now."
Valentin gasped and moaned as if his wound were throbbing. "Broken faith, broken faith! And my sister—my sister?"
"Your sister's very unhappy; she has consented to give me up. I don't know why—I don't know what they've done to her; it must be something pretty bad. In justice to her you ought to know. They've made her suffer—what it is they must have put her through! I have n't seen her alone, but only before them. We had an interview yesterday morn-
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