have made her
task seem hopeless and it must have taken some courage to pit her own
charm in the lists against one of Marcia's known quality. But if she
was unhappy, no sign of it reached my eyes. Only her mother, who
sometimes raised her eyes and calmly regarded her daughter, had an
inkling of what was in Una's heart.

Jerry went no more to the telephone. I kept an eye on it and I know.
And when his car went out, Una or Jack went with him. Three days
passed with no telephone calls from Briar Hills. When Jerry's guests
were with him, the duties of hospitality seemed sacred to him and he
left nothing undone for their comfort or entertainment. At night Una
sang to us, and Jerry was himself, but during most of the day he moved
mechanically, only speaking to Jack or me when directly addressed.

"Acts like a sleepwalker," said Jack to me. "It's hypnotic, sheer
moon-madness!"

Only Una had the power to draw him out of himself. He always had a
smile for her and a friendly word, but I knew that _she_ knew that she
had failed. Jerry was possessed of a devil, a she-devil, that none of
the familiar friendly gods could cast out.

The end came soon and with a startling suddenness. We were out driving
in Jack's motor one morning before lunch, Jack at the wheel, with Una
beside him, Jerry and I in the rear seat, when in passing along a
quiet road not far from Briar Hills, we saw at some distance ahead of
us and going our way, a red runabout, containing a man and a girl.
Jack was running the car very slowly, as the road was none too good,
and we ran close up behind the pair before they were aware of us. I
saw Jerry lean forward in his seat, peering with the strange set look
I had recently seen so often in his eyes. I followed his gaze and, as
I looked, the man in the red car put his arm around the girl's neck
and she raised her chin and they kissed. All of us saw it. Jack
chuckled and blew his horn violently. The pair drew apart suddenly and
the man tried quickly to get away, but Jack with a laugh had already
put on the power and we passed them before they could get up speed.
The girl hid her face but the man was Channing Lloyd.

Jerry had recognized them. I saw him start up in his seat, turning
around, but I caught at his wrist and held him. He was deathly pale,
ugly, dangerous. But he made no further move. During the ride home he
sat as though frozen fast into his seat with no word for me or for our
companions, who had not turn