"Sleep? I couldn't." She pressed both hands to her temples, lifting
tragic and lustrous eyes to her companion. "I think my head is going to
burst from trying not to think."

After some hesitancy Miss Van Arsdale went to a wall-cabinet, took out a
phial, shook into her hand two little pellets, and returned the phial,
carefully locking the cabinet upon it.

"Take a hot bath," she directed. "Then I'm going to give you just a
little to eat. And then these." She held out the drug.

Io acquiesced dully.

Early in the morning, before the first forelight of dawn had started the
birds to prophetic chirpings, the recluse heard light movements in the
outer room. Throwing on a robe she went in to investigate. On the
bearskin before the flickering fire sat Io, an apparition of soft
curves.

"D--d--don't make a light," she whimpered. "I've been crying."

"That's good. The best thing you could do."

"I want to go home," wailed Io.

"That's good, too. Though perhaps you'd better wait a little. Why, in
particular do you want to go home?"

"I w-w-w-want to m-m-marry Delavan Eyre."

A quiver of humor trembled about the corners of Camilla Van Arsdale's
mouth. "Echoes of remorse," she commented.

"No. It isn't remorse. I want to feel safe, secure. I'm afraid of
things. I want to go to-morrow. Tell Mr. Banneker he must arrange it for
me."

"We'll see. Now you go back to bed and sleep."

"I'd rather sleep here," said Io. "The fire is so friendly." She curled
herself into a little soft ball.

Her hostess threw a coverlet over her and returned to her own room.

When light broke, there was no question of Io's going that day, even had
accommodations been available. A clogging lassitude had descended upon
her, the reaction of cumulative nervous stress, anesthetizing her will,
her desires, her very limbs. She was purposeless, ambitionless, except
to lie and rest and seek for some resolution of peace out of the tangled
web wherein her own willfulness had involved her.

"The best possible thing," said Camilla Van Arsdale. "I'll write your
people that you are staying on for a visit."

"Yes; they won't mind. They're used to my vagaries. It's awfully good of
you."

At noon came Banneker to see Miss Welland. Instead he found a curiously
reticent Miss Van Arsdale. Miss Welland was not feeling well and could
not be seen.

"Not her head again, is it?" asked Banneker, alarmed.

"More nerves, though the head injury probably contribut