eeded in her hour of trial. The
ecstasy that had thrilled him when he first realized that he loved
Consuello returned to him as the cab sped through the streets. She knew
now why he had beseeched her to think of him as doing what he thought
was right. And she had kept her promise! A glance through the window of
the cab at a lighted corner told him that they were nearing their
destination.

"I'm going to leave you alone with her," Betty said, with the frankness
that she had displayed when they first met. "I need not ask you to be
very considerate, to do everything you can to comfort her. In my heart I
feel that what has happened is all for the best. How dreadful it would
have been if she had been compelled to make this discovery for herself
after they were married.

"I told her that I would be away until late; that I was busy. We'll
stop at the corner to let you out, because she knows that I took a cab
when I left and she might suspect that I went for you. Here we are."

She called to the driver to stop.

"It was kind of you----" he began as he stood at the cab door after
alighting. She stopped him with a gesture of her hand. Then, leaning
forward a little, her eyes dancing with a smile, she said:

"Don't you know that I know you love her?"

The door closed quickly and the cab spurted away from the curb, leaving
him standing bewildered and yet overjoyed by the audacious words she had
spoken. So that was why she had called him to Consuello! If Betty knew
it, then Consuello, too, must realize that he loved her. The thought
frightened him. It had never occurred to him before that she might know.
Somehow, he had not dared to imagine that she cared enough even to guess
that he loved her.

He went slowly to the opening in the hedge of boxwood that lined the
sidewalk in front of Consuello's artistic little dream home and turned
into the pathway between the patches of rosebushes. A heavy fragrance
from the blossoms filled the still night air. As he stepped on to the
porch and reached for the knocker with his left hand he recalled
suddenly that his face bore strips of plaster over his wounds and that
his right hand was held rigid in splints. The hesitancy that this
recollection gave forsook him when he remembered that Betty had made no
comment on his appearance, probably because she had seen the photograph
of him that had been published in the paper. Emboldened he rapped with
the knocker.

She wore the same simple white