haps,
already waiting for you, while you squander yourself on makeshifts and
second bests."

The little silence which had ended his speech dragged on from seconds
into minutes. In the quiet room nothing stirred. She attempted to free
herself from his gaze by refusing to look at him. Against her will her
eyes crept up to his, clashed, evaded, fell back and again crept up to
them.

At last, speaking humbly, she said, "I was ashamed. You made me ashamed.
Whatever I'd done, if he came back, he wouldn't be ashamed of me. It
wouldn't matter how cowardly I'd been or however many husbands I'd had;
he'd be so glad to have me in his arms that he wouldn't find time to be
ashamed of me. So I'm not going to be ashamed any longer; I'm going to
start to live as if he were coming back. It'll be hard at first.
Adair--he was nothing. And yet---- I shall miss him, no doubt. You said
something this afternoon that you didn't mean."

"Didn't I? What was it?"

"It was when I was crying because nobody wanted me. Do you remember what
you said? You said, 'I do,' not meaning a word of it. Could you manage
to want me just a little, Lord Taborley? Not for long, you know; only
till I've got past the loneliest places--till I've begun almost to
persuade myself that he may come back. To think that you wanted me would
help."

Before he could answer, she had sprung to her feet, all but over-turning
the lamp. "What's that?"

A sharp rat-a-tat-tat had reverberated through the house. While she
spoke, it was repeated. Her over-strung nerves gave way. As Tabs rose,
she clung to him beseechingly. "Don't let him in. I'm not ready for him.
Don't let him in. Go outside and send him away. Tell him anything. But
don't let him enter."

Tabs had no clear idea to whom she was referring. It might have been to
Adair. It might have been to Pollock. It seemed more likely that it was
to her dead husband. This talk about living as though he might come
back had probably distraught an imagination already over-taxed.

"He sha'n't enter," he assured her. "There's no need to lose your
nerve."

As he passed into the hall, he heard the starchy approach of Porter. He
waited and halted her with, "Mrs. Lockwood asked me to answer it."

When he had watched her retreat and vanish, he advanced towards the
door. Who was it out there in the darkness whose knock had power to
strike such terror? It was a terror the excitement of which he at least
remotely shared. The thought c