heir--her--thoughts. He did not know
precisely what she was thinking of him, but he was certain that it was
not anything favorable how could it be? In fact, fight though she did
against the thought, into her mind as she looked, pitying yet
shrinking, came his likeness to a wolf--starved and sick and gaunt, by
weakness tamed into surface restraint, but in vicious teeth, in savage
lips, in jaw made to crush for love of crushing, a wicked wolf,
impatient to resume the life of the beast of prey.

By a mischance unavoidable in a mind filled as was his he began to tell
of his revenge--of the exhibition of power he purposed to give, sudden
and terrible. He talked of his enemies as a cat might of a mouse it
was teasing in the impassable circle of its paws. She felt that they
deserved the thunderbolt he said he was about to hurl into them, but
she could not help feeling pity for them. If what he said of his
resources and power were true, how feeble, how helpless they
were--pygmies fatuously disporting themselves in the palm of a giant's
hand, unconscious of where they were, of the cruel eyes laughing at
them, of the iron muscles that would presently contract that hand
and--she shuddered; his voice came to her in a confused murmur.

"If he does not stop I shall loathe him AGAIN!" she said to herself.
Then to him: "Perhaps you'd like to see Langdon--he's in the
drawing-room with Gladys."

"I sent for him two hours ago. Yes, tell him to come up at once."

As she took the cup he detained her hand. She beat down the impulse to
snatch it away, let it lie passive. He pressed his lips upon it.

"I haven't thanked you for coming back," he said in a low voice,
holding to her hand nervously.

"But you know it wasn't because I'm not grateful, don't you? I can
hardly believe yet that it isn't a dream. I'd have said there wasn't a
human being on earth who'd have done it--except your mother. No, not
even you, only your mother."

At this tribute to her mother, unexpected, sincere, tears dimmed
Pauline's eyes and a sob choked up into her throat.

"It was your mother in you that made you come," he went on. "But you
came--and I'll not forget it. You said you had come to stay--is that
so, Pauline?"

She bent her head in assent.

"When I'm well and on top again--but there's nothing in words. All I'll
say is, you're giving me a chance, and I'll make the best of it. I've
learned my lesson."

He slowly released her hand. Sh