oughtn't--I wanted to do what was best. I--I didn't
know--You----"

Then the tears came--She tried desperately to stop them, then they came
rushing; she buried her head in her hands and abandoned herself to
weeping that was partly sorrow for herself and partly sorrow for Breton
and partly, in the strangest way, sorrow for Roddy.

He was on his knees by her chair, had his arm about her, was crying:

"Oh! Rachel--Rachel--Rachel--I love you. I love you--Don't
cry--Don't--Rachel----" He kissed her again and again and she clung to
him like a frightened child.

III

After a time her crying ceased, she got up from the chair, moving gently
out of his embrace, and then went to the looking-glass above the
fireplace and stood there wiping her eyes.

Then, smiling, she looked back at him--He was standing in front of the
window and behind him the reflection, from the departed sun, flooded the
town with gold. He seemed a man transformed, gazing upon her with an
ecstasy of triumph, exaltation, happiness.

"My dear--my dear--Oh! how glorious you are!"

But she did not move.

He stirred impatiently, and then, looking at her with adoring eyes, he
whispered, "Oh! my dear! but I love you!"

"I must go," she said, her eyes, large and frightened, appealingly upon
him--

He smiled at her, his eyes laughing.

"Yes, Francis--let me--let me. Now while I can still see what I ought to
do."

"There's only one thing that you ought to do. You belong to me now." She
plucked nervously with her hands one against the other.

"Francis, let me go--please--please----" He saw then that she was
unhappy and the laughter died from his eyes. His voice, fallen from its
happiness, was almost harsh, as he replied--

"You know we love one another, have loved one another ever since that
day when we met in Miss Rand's rooms? You know it as well as I do. You
knew it when you came to these rooms to-day."

"I oughtn't to have come." Her voice had gathered strength. "It's only
because I realize now what you are to me that I want to go. I thought I
was so strong, that I could be fair to Roddy and to you too ... I didn't
know----"

"Then stay--stay--" he whispered urgently. "It's a thing that you've got
to face anyhow--We can't stay apart, you and I, now. We can try, but you
know--you know as well as I--that we can't do it."

"We must--That's what I meant before. That's why I must go now, because
soon I shan't be strong enough. But we've got to pa