!" And then, "O Leonard, is
it possible that little young thing can love you as I do!" And, "O
Leonard--O Leonard!"

Marjorie, in the garden, skirted the shrubs and stole between the
flower-beds to the library window. Vividly she could see Leonard,
stretched out in a chair, his cigarette in one hand, gesticulating,
talking.

"He's happy; he's forgotten all about me," she thought; and swept by an
absurd emotion of self-pity, she kissed her own arms in the darkness to
comfort herself, till her eyes, which never left his face, saw him turn
warily and desperately to the clock.

"Leonard," she whispered, pressing close to the glass.

Suddenly he saw her revealed in the pale halo of light cast by the
window into the darkness. He looked at her for moments without moving.
Then she saw him get up and say good night to his father, putting his
hand awkwardly and self-consciously on his sleeve. Minutes passed, and
she knew he had gone to say good night to his mother, and then she saw
the light of his cigarette coming toward her across the lawn. She waited
without moving for him to touch her. So many times she would feel him
coming toward her in the moonlight, the outline of his dear form lost in
the dusk, and when he put out his hand it would be only empty shadows.

"Marjorie, where are you?"

"Here, Len."

Some one came to the front door and called out,--

"Are you there, Leonard and Marjorie? Lock the door when you come in,
Leonard."

From the darkness they saw his mother's form silhouetted against the
light inside. She started as if to come toward them, and then suddenly
shut the door and left them alone together in the white night.

V

A thick yellow fog lay over London; at five o'clock in the Victoria
Station the dawn had not penetrated, and the great globes of electricity
in the murky ceiling shed an uncertain light. Through the usual somber
and preoccupied din of the early morning traffic, came the steady,
rhythmic tread of marching feet. Lost in the smoke and fog, a band was
playing "Rule Britannia."

Marjorie and Leonard were standing in the very centre of the vast dingy
shed. Heavy-eyed, they looked about them with an unseeing, bewildered
gaze, that kept reverting to each other. Marjorie had both her hands
about one of Leonard's, and was holding it convulsively in the pocket of
his great-coat. Many times she had pictured this last scene to herself,
anticipating every detail. Even in these nightmare