n the pavement, and facing up the hill that
leads from the Condamine to higher Monte Carlo, that she spoke. "Oh, I
ought to have left word for Lady Dauntrey!" she exclaimed.

"I thought of that," Hannaford quietly answered. "I wrote on a card that
you had a headache and I was taking you home."

"Thank you," Mary said, mechanically. As soon as she had heard the words
she forgot them, and let her thoughts rush back to the arena of their
martyrdom. Hannaford took her hand and laid it on his arm. She allowed
it to rest there, depending unconsciously on the support he gave. They
did not speak again until they had reached the top of the hill, turned
the corner, and arrived at the steps of the Hotel de Paris.

Because Lady Dauntrey had chosen to make a late entrance on the scene,
it was after midnight now, though Mary and Hannaford had come away
comparatively early from the dance. The Casino was shut, but Christmas
eve festivities were going on in the restaurant, as well as in the
brilliantly lit Moorish Cafe de Paris on the opposite side of the
_Place_. Mary's longing for peace and quiet in "coming home" was jarred
out of her mind by the gay music and lights, and sounds of distant
laughter which seemed to have followed her mockingly from the yacht. But
they brought her out of herself; and standing on the lowest step she
thanked Hannaford for all that he had done.

"You know I've done nothing," he said. "I wish there were something I
really could do for you. Isn't there? Wouldn't you like to have an
English doctor prescribe for your headache? I know a splendid one. He'd
cure you in an hour."

"I must try to cure myself," Mary said. "I shall be better soon. I must
be! There's nothing more you can do, thank you very much. Unless----"

"Unless what?" He caught her up more quickly than he usually spoke.

"Now I've come back, I can hardly bear to go indoors after all. I feel
as if I couldn't breathe in a warm room, with curtains over the windows.
Would you take me on the terrace? I think I should like just to sit on
one of the seats there for a few minutes; and afterward maybe I shall be
more ready to go in."

"Come, then," was the brief answer that was somehow comforting to Mary.
She began consciously to realize that this man's calm presence helped
her. She was grateful, and at the same time smitten with remorse for the
faint physical repulsion against him she had never until now quite lost.
At this moment she believed tha