“Yes, I am. Why?”

“Oh, nothing; I only thought⁠—I mean, do you think⁠—”

Rob Fessenden was thrilled by the plaintive expression on the beautiful face, and suddenly felt a great desire to help this girl, who was seemingly so far above and beyond all need of help, and yet was surely about to ask his aid, or at least his sympathy.

“Don’t hesitate,” he said gently; “what is it, Miss Van Norman? I want to be as firm a friend of yours as I am of Schuyler’s, so please say what you wish to.”

“I can’t⁠—I can’t,” Madeleine whispered, and her voice was almost a moan.

“Please,” again urged Fessenden.

“Do you know Dorothy Burt?” Madeleine then broke out, as if the words were fairly forced from her.

“No,” said Fessenden, amazed; “I never heard the name before. Who is she?”