With him, as with most people who ask advice, advice was the last thing he wanted.

It was his way to unbosom himself, however, and he forged ahead with his story, with what seemed to Harwood a maddening failure to appreciate its sinister import.

"You remember that when we were up there on the Kankakee, John Ware told a story one night--a mighty good story about an experience he had once ?" "Yes; he told a lot of stories.

Which one do you mean ?" "Oh, the best one of all--about the woman in the Adirondacks.

You haven't forgotten that ?" "No; I do remember something about it." "You may not have noticed that while Ware was telling the story dad got up from the bed in the corner and walked over to the stove, after Ware had asked you--it was you, wasn't it ?--to reach into the pocket of his coat over your head and get the book he was talking about--it was you he spoke to, wasn't it ?" "Yes; it comes back to me now," replied Dan, frowning.
"Well, I remember, because it struck me as odd that dad should be interested; it was Emerson, you know; and dad looked at the book in the light from the stove and asked me what the name was down in the inside of the cover.