oment of weakness was
past. She could have gone then, but nothing would have induced her to
leave him while he cried.

"I don't intend to do either," Claire said with equal steadiness. "When
you think I ought to go, you'll let me out."

It struck Winn that her knowledge of him was positively uncanny.

"I don't believe," he said sharply, "you're only nineteen. I believe
you've been in love before!"

Claire didn't say anything, but she looked past him at the door.

Her look maddened him.

"You're playing with me!" he cried. "By Jove! you're playing with me!"
He caught her by the shoulders, and for a moment he believed that he was
going to kill her; but her eyes never wavered. He was not hurting her,
and she knew that he never would. She said:

"O my darling boy!"

Winn got up and walked to the window. When he came back, his expression
had completely changed.

"Now cut along to bed," he said quietly. "You're tired. Go--at once,
Claire."

This time she knew she ought to go, but something held her back. She
was not satisfied with the look in his eyes. He was controlled again,
but it was a controlled desperation. She could not leave him with that.

Her mind was intensely alert with pain; she followed his eyes. They
rested for a moment on the stand by his bed. He pushed the key across
the table toward her, but she did not look at the key; she crossed the
room and opened the drawer under the Bible.

She saw what she had expected to see. It was Winn's revolver; upon it
lay a snap-shot of Peter. He always kept them together.

Claire took out the revolver. Winn watched her, with his hands in his
pockets.

"Be careful," he said; "it's loaded."

She brought it to him and said:

"Now take all the things out of it." Winn laughed, and unloaded it
without a word. "Now open the window," she ordered, "and throw them into
the snow." Winn obeyed. When he came back she put her arms around his
neck and kissed him. "Now I'll go," she said.

"All right," agreed Winn, gently. "Wait for me in the cloak-room, and
I'll take you across. But, I say, look here--will you ever forgive me?
I'm afraid I've been a most fearful brute."

Then Claire knew she couldn't stand any more. She turned and ran into
the passage. Fortunately, the cloak-room was empty. She pressed herself
against a fur coat and sobbed as Winn had sobbed up-stairs; but she had
not his arms to comfort her. She had not dared to cry in his arms.

They walked hand in