ued. "You are, comparatively
speaking, young, well-looking enough, and strong. Your hand is firmly
planted upon the lever which moves the world. What are you going to do?"

"That," he said, "depends upon many things."

"You may be ambitious," she remarked. "If so, you conceal it admirably.
You may be devoting your powers to the consummation of vengeance against
those who have treated you ill. There are no signs of that, either, at
present."

"We have excellent authority," he remarked, "for the statement that a
considerable amount of satisfaction is derivable from the exercise of
that sentiment."

"Perhaps," she answered, "but the pursuit of vengeance for wrongs of the
past is the task of a fool. Now, you are not a fool. You carry your life
locked up within you as a strong man should. But there are always some
who may look in through the windows. I should like to be one."

"An empty cupboard," he declared. "A cupboard swept bare by time and
necessity."

She shook her head.

"Your life," she said, "is molded towards a purpose. What is it?"

"I must ask myself the question," he declared, "before I can tell you
the answer!"

"No," she said, "the necessity does not exist. Your reckless pursuit of
wealth, your return here, the use you are making of my husband and me,
are all means towards some end. Why not tell me?"

"Your imagination," he declared, "is running away with you."

"Are you our enemy?" she asked. "Is this seeming friendship of yours a
cloak to hide some scheme of yours to make us suffer? Or--" She drew a
little closer to him, and her eyes drooped.

"Or what?" he repeated.

"Is there a little left," she whispered, "of the old folly?"

"Why not?" he answered quietly. "I was very much in love with you."

"It is dead," she murmured. "I believe that you hate me now!"

Her voice was almost a caress. She was leaning a little towards him; her
eyes were seeking to draw his.

"Hate you! How impossible!" he said calmly. "You are still a beautiful
woman, you know, Ruth."

He turned and studied her critically. Lady Ruth raised her eyes once,
but dropped them at once. She felt herself growing paler. A spasm of the
old fear was upon her.

"Yes," he continued, "age has not touched you. You can still pour, if
you will, the magic drug into the wine of fools. By the bye, I must not
be selfish. Aren't you rather neglecting your guests?"

"Never mind my guests," she answered. "I have been wanting to talk to