peace, was no longer filled with dismay.

Her head was bent upon her left arm, her right hand lightly clasped the
edge of the table. With the intention of saying farewell, Winthrop
took her hand in his. The girl did not move. To his presence she seemed
utterly oblivious. In the gathering dusk he could see the bent figure,
could hear the soft, irregular breathing as the girl wept gently,
happily, like a child sobbing itself to sleep. The hand he held in his
neither repelled nor invited, and for an instant he stood motionless,
holding it uncertainly. It was so delicate, so helpless, so appealing,
so altogether lovable. It seemed to reach up, and, with warm, clinging
fingers, clutch the tendrils of his heart.

Winthrop bent his head suddenly, and lifting the hand, kissed it; and
then, without again speaking, walked quickly into the hall and shut the
door. In the room the dusk deepened. Through the open windows came the
roar of the Sixth Avenue Elevated, the insistent clamor of an electric
hansom, the murmur of Broadway at night. The tears had suddenly ceased,
but the girl had not moved. At last, slowly, stiffly, she raised her
head. Her eyes, filled with wonder, with amazement, were fixed upon her
hand. She glanced cautiously about her. Assured she was alone, with her
other hand she lifted the one Winthrop had kissed and held it pressed
against her lips.

The folding doors were thrown open, letting in a flood of light, and
Mabel Vance, entering swiftly, knelt at the table and bent her head
close to Vera.

"That woman's in the hall," she whispered, "that niece of Hallowell's.
Paul and Mannie can't get rid of her. Now she's got hold of Winthrop.
She says she will see you. Be careful!"

Vera rose. That Mabel might not see she had been weeping, she walked to
the piano, covertly drying her eyes.

"What," she asked dully, "does she want with me?"

"About tonight," answered Mabel. She exclaimed fiercely, "I told them
there'd be trouble!"

With Vance upon her heels, Helen Coates came in quickly from the hall.
Her face was flushed, her eyes lit with indignation and excitement. In
her hand she held an open letter.

As though to protect Vera, both Vance and his wife moved between her and
their visitor, but, disregarding them, Miss Coates at once singled out
the girl as her opponent.

"You are the young woman they call Vera, I believe," she said. "I have a
note here from Mr. Hallowell telling me you are giving a seance ton