hat thoughtless confession.
She read it in his face, and as quickly flung forth her hand in
warning, but he only grasped it tightly within his own.

"You cannot stand it!" he cried in passionate eagerness. "Then you
must care for me? You must love me, Beth?"

"No, no!" Her eyes were full of agony, and she sought to free her
imprisoned hand. "Oh, hush! I beg of you, hush! You--you hurt me so.
I will not permit you to speak such words. Please release my hand."

He loosened his grasp, feeling bewildered, ashamed, dimly conscious
that he had been guilty of an ungentlemanly action, yet deep within his
own heart assured that he felt no regret.

"Do you mean that?" he questioned vaguely.

"Yes," and all the previous tremor had left her clear voice. "I did
not suppose you would ever say such a thing to me. I gave you no right
to speak those words."

"My own heart gave me the right."

Possibly the woman in her conquered; perhaps there was a nameless
hunger within her soul which made her long to hear the forbidden words
just once from his lips.

"The right, you say? What right?"

"To tell you that I love you."

She drew a quick, quivering breath, the rich color surging into her
cheeks, her gloved hands clasped across her heaving bosom as though to
still the fierce throbbing of her heart. An instant she stood as if
palsied, trembling, from head to foot, although he could perceive
nothing. Her lips smiled.

"Oh, indeed," she said archly, "and how very prettily you said it! The
only son of Colonel Winston, the wealthy banker of Denver, honors Miss
Norvell, actress, and she, of course, feels highly grateful!"

"Beth, stop!" His voice was indignantly earnest. "It is not that; you
must know it is not that!"

"I only know it is supremely ridiculous," she returned, more coldly;
"yet if I did not believe you spoke with some degree of honesty I
should deem your words a deliberate insult, and treat them accordingly.
As it is, I prefer regarding your speech merely as an evidence of
temporary insanity. Ned Winston making love to Beth Norvell! Why, you
do not even know my true name, the story of my life, or that I am in
any way worthy of your mere friendship. Love! You love me, an actress
in a fly-by-night company, a variety artist at the Gayety! What would
they say at home?"

"I know you."

"Ah, but you do not in the least," her voice grown steady and serious.
"That is the whole trouble. You do not in