m, fiercely rubbing her already
scarlet cheeks with a rough towel. Every trace of assumed listlessness
had vanished; she was frantically alive, with blazing, defiant eyes,
and talking half-disconnectedly.

"Never let him come here again--never, never!" she appealed to Lois.

"Whom do you mean?"

"George Sutton!"

A contraction passed over her face; she began rubbing again with
renewed fury.

"Don't do that, Dosia! You'll take the skin off. Stop it!"

Lois, alarmed, put her arm around the girl, trying to push the towel
away from her. "Dosia, sit down by me here on the bed--how you're
trembling! What on earth is the matter? Dosia, you must not; you'll
take the skin off your face."

"I want to take it off," whispered Dosia intensely. "I hate him, I
hate him! I never want to see him again. I can't see him again. I
threw the ring out in the hall somewhere; you'll have to find it. I
couldn't have it in the room with me! Lois, you must tell him I can't
see him again; promise me that I'll never see him again--promise,
_promise_!" She clung to Lois as if her life depended on that
protection.

"Yes, yes, dear, I promise," said Lois, with a sudden warmth of
sympathy such as she had never before felt for the girl. This
situation, this feeling, she could comprehend--it might have been her
own in similar case. She had known girls before who had been engaged
for but a day or a week, and then revolted--it was not so new a
circumstance as the world fancies.

She drew the towel now from Dosia's relaxed fingers, and held her
closer as she said:

"There, be quiet, Dosia, and don't make yourself ill. I don't see what
that poor man is going to do--of course he'll feel dreadfully; but you
can't help that now--it's a great deal better than finding out the
mistake later. I'll tell him not to come again; I promise you. Of
course, I'll have to speak to Justin--I don't know what he will say!"
Lois broke into a rueful smile. "Dosia, Dosia! What scrape will you
get into next?"

"Isn't it dreadful!" gasped poor Dosia. She sat up straight and looked
at Lois with tragic eyes.

"Now two men have kissed me. I can never get over that in this world.
I can never be nice again--no one can ever think I'm nice again! No
one can ever--_love_ me in this world!" She buried her hot face in
Lois' bosom, sobbing tearlessly against that new shelter, in spite of
the other's incoherent words of comfort, so unalterably, so inherently
a woman made to be