Her eyes were dilated— fixed in a horrified stare at the parting in the curtains which hung before the window. ’ She looked up again and smiled sweetly. . ’ ‘But where? Where has he gone? Always he goes off, and he says no word to anyone. “Well,” he said slowly, “I had met you three times—before Drummond’s dinner. To be jeune demoiselle, it is not always convenient. Never again to be alone! To fit herself into this man's life as a hand into a glove; to use all her skill to force him into the position of depending upon her utterly; to be the spark to the divine fire! He should have his book, even if it had to be written with her heart's blood. There is Mr.
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