king longingly through at
the easy-chairs of American manufacture, Mrs. Rosscott had ordered that
the blue velvet portieres which hung between should never be pushed aside,
and it was owing to this order that Jack, entering the drawing-room, heard
voices, but could not see into the library beyond. Also it was owing to
this order that those in the library could not see or hear Jack.

The result was that the young man, finding the drawing-room unoccupied,
was just crossing toward the blue velvet curtains, intending to wait in
the library until the returning servant should advise him of the
whereabouts of his mistress, when he was stopped by suddenly hearing a
voice--her voice--crying (and laughing at the same time)--

"Kisses barred! Kisses barred!"

It may be understood that had Mrs. Rosscott known that anyone was within
hearing she certainly would never have made any such speech, and it may be
further understood that, had whoever was with her, also mistrusted the
close propinquity of another man, he would never have replied (as he did
reply):

"Certainly," the same being spoken in a most calm and careless tone.

Jack, the eavesdropper, stood transfixed at the voices and speeches, and
forgot every other consideration in the overwhelming sickness of soul
which overcame him that instant. All his other soul-sicknesses were
trifles compared to this one, and the world--his world--their world--seemed
to revolve and whirl and turn upside down, as he steadied himself against
a spindle-legged cabinet and felt its spindle-legs trembling in sympathy
with his own.

"Darling," said Holloway, a second or two later (and this time his voice
was not calm and careless, but deep and impassioned), "the letter was very
sweet, and if you knew how I longed to take the tired little girl to my
bosom and comfort her troubles, and replace them by joys!"

"Will that day ever come, do you think?" Mrs. Rosscott answered, in low
tones, which nevertheless were most painfully clear and distinct in the
next room.

"It must," Holloway replied, "just as surely as that I hold this dear
little hand--"

But Jack never knew more. He had heard enough--more than enough. Four
thousand times too much. He turned and went out of the rooms, back down
the stairs and out of the door, closed it noiselessly behind him, and
found himself in a world which, although bright and sunny to all the rest
of mankind, had turned dark, lonely, and cheerless to him.

At f