yed against him softly, so
that he began to look expectantly ahead for a change in the straight
line of the track, laughing happily to himself at her involuntary
apology. Their comradeship seemed to have entered upon a stage in
which mere propinquity was sufficient to give content without the aid
of conversation, and a deep serenity of mood had now replaced the
wavering uncertainties of his earlier emotions. This atmosphere of
harmony and understanding remained unbroken until they stood before her
house; but now an inexplicable change occurred. She suddenly held out
her hand with a gesture that seemed to him frankly impatient, as if she
were anxious to be gone. "And my gloves," she said. "I think I gave
them to you."

He produced them reluctantly. "I had hoped you would forget them, Miss
Wycliffe."

"One does n't easily forget a new pair of gloves," she answered in a
tone cruelly matter-of-fact, as if she would show deliberately her
unconcern. He could now see all too clearly what a fool's dream he had
cherished, and the awakening was painfully abrupt. He divined that
something was amiss, something of which he had no knowledge or right to
a knowledge. During that afternoon he had passed through the whole
gamut of a lover's emotions, only to strike at last the lowest note of
all, and he watched her hurrying up the walk as if she were going out
of his life forever.

That evening he turned over in his mind all the phases of their
enigmatical relationship, cursing his bland folly as he recalled with
keen humiliation his complacent explanation of her to herself while
they waited for the car. Her manner at parting appeared nothing less
than a decisive rebuke. When at length he fell asleep, he was visited
by a ghastly dream, in which the incident in the woods was re-enacted
with all the grewsome accentuation that belongs to the realm of
dreamland. Again the shadowy figure rose up before his feet and fled
away. He pursued and grappled with the intruder in the darkness,
demanding his name and trying to see his face. Finally he seemed to
prevail, but the figure slipped from his grasp and left him there
alone. He turned back then, seeking the fire and smitten with poignant
anxiety for the woman he loved; but the light was quenched, and the
place could not be found. After struggling for what seemed a lifetime
through mazes of darkness and terror, he awoke.

CHAPTER IX

"HER HEART WAS OTHERWHERE"

A fe