He sat with his head fallen forward, and his chin resting on his folded hands.

Thinking of the portrait, he saw Conrad's face before him, reproachful, astonished, but all gentle as it looked when Conrad caught his hand that day after he struck him; he heard him say, "Father!" and the sweat gathered on his forehead.

"Oh, my God!" he groaned.

"No; there ain't anything I can do now." Beaton did not know whether Dryfoos was speaking to him or not.

He started toward him.