"Thank you, John..." he muttered and he put his arm around the young man's shoulder for support. "Sorry to get your clothes dirty."

He suddenly remembered that he had carried his bag. One glance around told him that it had been taken. He had been threatened and had feared for his life that night. He had experienced betrayal and conflict. He had the suffered the worst violence he had ever suffered in his life. But this stung differently. His father had given him that bag.

"Let's go," he said, defeated.

It wasn't far. Tristan found that his body allowed him to walk fairly well, but he felt so tired and overwhelmed that he was thankful for the support. When they reached the home, he said quietly: "We'll go in through the waiting room. I think Miss Danes is asleep. But keep your voice down." He led John through the waiting room into the doctor's office. He had hoped that Miss Danes' altered circumstances would make her reconsider her plans with Mr. Blacke. Bringing the young man home was barely going to help that course of events, but here he was.