CHAPTER XVI.
Before he could close the drawer completely I caught his arm and held it.
"George," I cried, "George, what is the matter?
Tell me; you must tell me." He tried to pull his arm free.

Finding that I would not let him do this he gave up the attempt and, with a poor attempt at a laugh, answered, "Matter?
Why, nothing is the matter.

I am tired and nervous, same as I've told you I've been for the last two or three months, and you scared me, tiptoeing in like a sneak thief, this time of night." "Time of night! It is but a little after nine.

What is the matter with you ?" "Nothing is the matter, I tell you.

Let go of my arm, Ros.