"They are not all like Palmer, thank Heaven," she said. "There are decent

men. My father is one, and your K., here in the house, is another."

At four o'clock in the morning Palmer Howe came home. Christine met him in

the lower hall. He was rather pale, but entirely sober. She confronted

him in her straight white gown and waited for him to speak.

"I am sorry to be so late, Chris," he said. "The fact is, I am all in. I

was driving the car out Seven Mile Run. We blew out a tire and the thing

turned over."

Christine noticed then that his right arm was hanging inert by his side.

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