The Madness of May
"For sheer cheek--" began Deering hotly.
Hood lifted his hand deprecatingly.
"Please don't!" he remarked soothingly. "With the tinkle of a bell you can call your man and have me bounced. I repacked my bag after taking a bath in your very comfortable guest-room, and we can part immediately. But let us be sensible, Deering; just between ourselves, don't you really need me?"
His tone was ingratiating, his manner the kindest. Deering had walked the streets for two days trying to bring himself to the point of confessing his plight to one of a score of loyal friends--men he had known from prep-school days, and on through college: active, resourceful, wealthy young fellows who would risk much to help him--and yet in his fear and misery he had shrunk from approachi