e of black above the leather. The desire for
exactness alone compels a reference to the fact that the boundary lines
of this silhouetted black area diverge perceptibly as they recede from
the shoe. It is only a detail, but even Florian notices it, and thinks
about it afterward. Her face is turned toward the shadows up there
by the window, her eyes looking at space, as if in quest of Iram and
his Rose, or Jamshyd and his Sev'n-ring'd Cup, or the solution of
the Master-knot of Human Fate. The unconscious pose showing the
incurved spine, and the arms and shoulders glimpsing through falls
of lace at sleeve and corsage, would make the fortune of the
photographer-in-ordinary to a professional beauty. And yet that man
Amidon stands there like a graven image, and fears to rush in where an
angel has folded her wings for him and rests!

[Illustration: There she sits so attentive to her book that his
entrance has not attracted her notice]

He knows that he is expected to claim some of the privileges of the
long-absent lover. He has some information as to their nature. His
eyes ought to apprise him (as they do us, my boy!) of their
preciousness. He is not without knowledge concerning past conduct of
that type which, beginning in hard-won privileges, ripens into
priceless duties, not to discharge which is insult all the more bitter
because it is not to be mentioned. It is not to be denied that the
tableau appeals to him; and because another woman has lately touched
him in a similar way, he stands there and condemns himself for that!
There is small excuse for him, I admit, sir. Her first token of his
presence should have been a kiss on the snowy shoulder. You suggest
the hair? Well, the hair, then, though for my part, I have always
felt---- But never mind! Had it been you or I in his place----

Yes, my dear, this digression is becoming tedious. Let us proceed with
the story.

Elizabeth rose with a little start of surprise, a little flutter of the
bosom, and came forward with extended hands. He took them with a
trembling grasp which might well have passed as evidence of fervor.

"Ah, Eugene," said she, holding him away, "it has seemed an age!"

"Yes," said he truthfully, "an eternity, almost."

"Sit down by the fire," said she, in that low voice which means so
much. "You are cold."

"I am a little cold," he replied. "I must have remained outside too
long."

"Y-e-s?" she returned; and after a long pause: "I