irst principles but she hoped
that she might still be able to do something about plans.

"We are going to drive over the Maloja to Chiavenna," said Claire;
"Maurice has a party to go with. We shall start by the earlier post, and
have lunch together at Vico-Soprano before he comes. And then when
Maurice comes we shall say good-by; and then--and then, Miss Marley,
I've been thinking--we mustn't meet again! I haven't told Winn yet,
because he likes to talk as if we could, in places awfully far away and
odd, with you to chaperon us. I think it helps him to talk like that
but I don't think now that we must ever meet again. You won't blame him
if I tell you something, will you?"

"No," said Miss Marley; "after what you've said to me to-night I am not
inclined to blame him."

"Well," said Claire, "I don't think, if we were to meet again, he would
let me go. We may manage this time, but not twice."

"Are you sure," asked Miss Marley, gently, "that you will manage this
time?"

Claire raised her head and looked at Miss Marley.

"Aren't you?" she said gravely. "I _did_ feel very sure."

"I'd feel a great deal surer," said Miss Marley, "if you didn't drive
down the pass. If you once set off with Winn, do you suppose he'll stop?
I am sure he means to now; in fact, his sending you up here to talk to
me proves it. He knows I sha'n't be much of a help to him in carrying
you off. But, my dear, I never knew any Staines stop, once he'd started.
As long as he is looking at the consequences for you, he'll steer clear
of them, he's looking at them now, but a moment will come when he'll
cease to look, and then everything will depend on you. I think your one
chance is to say good-by here, and to drive down the pass with Maurice.
He can dispose of his party for once."

The color left Claire's face, but her eyes never flinched from Miss
Marley's. After a time Miss Marley turned her head away; she could no
longer bear the look in Claire's eyes. It was like watching the face of
some one drowning.

"I don't want a chance!" whispered Claire.

[Illustration: "I don't want a chance," whispered Claire]

Miss Marley found her voice difficult to control, but she did control
it; she said:

"I was thinking of his chance. If he does you any harm, he won't forgive
himself. You can stop it; he can't possibly stop himself."

"No," said Claire. She didn't cry; she sat very straight and still on
her footstool in front of the fire. After a while s