ll to the _salon_, where the night stretched
beckoning, velvet fingers through the open window.

Young, luxurious summer palpitated through the dusk, fanning the ardor
in her heart. She ran forward, drawn by its allurement; then, all at
once, she stopped, her hand flying to her heart, her breath suspended in
a little cry of surprise. Blake had slipped unheard into the
_appartement_, and was awaiting her on the balcony.

At her cry, he turned--wheeled round toward her--and his eyes scanned
her surprised, betraying face.

"You are glad!" he cried, in sudden self-expression. "You are glad to
see me!" The words were hot as they were abrupt, they seared her with
their swiftness and their conviction, they were as a raiding army before
which all ramparts fell. Mentally, morally, she felt herself sway until
preconceived ideas drifted to and fro, weeds upon a tide.

"Yes," she answered, scarcely aware of her own voice. "I am glad."

Where now were the subtle ways, the divers interlacing paths wherein
Maxine was to pursue her chase, delivering her quarry into the hands of
Max? Where were the barbed and potent shafts whereby that capture was to
be achieved? All had vanished into the night; she stood before her
intended victim unarmed, ungirt, and--miracle of miracles--undismayed!

She and Blake confronted each other. Their lips were dumb, but their
looks embraced. Fate--life--was in the air, in the myriad voices of the
night, the myriad pulses of their bodies, the myriad thoughts that
wheeled and flashed within their brains.

This knowledge rushed in upon her swimming senses, upon eyes suddenly
opened, ears suddenly made free of the music of the spheres; and her
hand--the hand that had first girded on her boy's attire--went out to
Blake like that of any girl.

It was nature's signal, stronger in its frailty than any attained art of
woman; and he answered to it as man has ever answered--ever will answer.

"Oh, my love!" he cried. "My love!" And his arms went round her.

It is sacrilege to attempt analysis of birth or love or death. Death and
birth, the mysteries! Love, the revelation! Man, as he has existed
through all time, had being in Blake's embrace; woman, as she has been
from the first, lived in Maxine's leap of the heart, her leap of the
spirit as the ecstasy of his touch thrilled her. Here was no coldness;
here was no sensuality. Divinity manifested itself, no longer above, but
within them. The lights in the sky w