ith the younger
Wilson.

They continued to meet, not as often as before, but once a week,
perhaps. The meetings were full of danger now; and if for the girl they
lost by this quality, they gained attraction for the man. She was shrewd
enough to realize her own situation. The thing had gone wrong. She
cared, and he did not. It was all a game now, not hers.

All women are intuitive; women in love are dangerously so. As well as
she knew that his passion for her was not the real thing, so also she
realized that there was growing up in his heart something akin to the
real thing for Sidney Page. Suspicion became certainty after a talk
they had over the supper table at a country road-house the day after
Christine's wedding.

"How was the wedding--tiresome?" she asked.

"Thrilling! There's always something thrilling to me in a man tying
himself up for life to one woman. It's--it's so reckless."

Her eyes narrowed. "That's not exactly the Law and the Prophets, is it?"

"It's the truth. To think of selecting out of all the world one woman,
and electing to spend the rest of one's days with her! Although--"

His eyes looked past Carlotta into distance.

"Sidney Page was one of the bridesmaids," he said irrelevantly. "She was
lovelier than the bride."

"Pretty, but stupid," said Carlotta. "I like her. I've really tried to
teach her things, but--you know--" She shrugged her shoulders.

Dr. Max was learning wisdom. If there was a twinkle in his eye, he
veiled it discreetly. But, once again in the machine, he bent over and
put his cheek against hers.

"You little cat! You're jealous," he said exultantly.

Nevertheless, although he might smile, the image of Sidney lay very
close to his heart those autumn days. And Carlotta knew it.

Sidney came off night duty the middle of November. The night duty had
been a time of comparative peace to Carlotta. There were no evenings
when Dr. Max could bring Sidney back to the hospital in his car.

Sidney's half-days at home were occasions for agonies of jealousy on
Carlotta's part. On such an occasion, a month after the wedding, she
could not contain herself. She pleaded her old excuse of headache, and
took the trolley to a point near the end of the Street. After twilight
fell, she slowly walked the length of the Street. Christine and Palmer
had not returned from their wedding journey. The November evening was
not cold, and on the little balcony sat Sidney and Dr. Max. K. was
there,