zarre, gem-encrusted image of an Eastern god. All
that was rare and beautiful had gone to the making of the room, and
rarer and more beautiful than all, in the eyes of the man whose memory
now recalled it, had been the woman to whom it had belonged, whose
loveliness had glowed within it like a jewel in a rich setting.

With a mental jolt his thoughts came back to the present, to the bare,
commonplace ugliness of Wallater's Buildings.

"My God!" he muttered. "Pauline--here!"

Then with swift steps he began the ascent of the stone steps, gradually
slackening in pace until, when he reached the summit and stood facing
that door behind which a woman watched and waited, he had perforce to
pause to regain his breath, whilst certain twinges in his right knee
reminded him that he was no longer as young as he had been.

In answer to his knock a low voice bade him enter, and a minute later he
was standing in the quiet little room, his eyes gazing levelly into the
feverish dark ones of the woman who had risen at his entrance.

"So!" she said, while an odd smile twisted her bloodless lips. "You
have come, after all. Sometimes--I began to doubt if you would. It is
days--an eternity since I sent for you."

"I have been away," he replied simply. "And my mail was not forwarded. I
came directly I received the ring--at once, as I told you I should."

"Well, sit down and let us talk"--impatiently--"it doesn't
matter--nothing matters since you have come in time."

"In time? What do you mean? In time for what? Pauline, tell
me"--advancing a step--"tell me, in God's Name, what are you doing in
this place?" He glanced significantly round the shabby room with its
threadbare carpet and distempered walls.

"I'm living here--"

"_Living here? You?_"

"Yes. Why not? Soon"--indifferently--"I shall be dying here. It is, at
least, as good a place to die in as any other."

"Dying?" The man's pleasant baritone voice suddenly shook. "Dying?
Oh, no, no! You've been ill--I can see that--but with care and good
nursing--"

"Don't deceive yourself, my friend," she interrupted him remorselessly.
"See, come to the window. Now look at me--and then don't talk any more
twaddle about care and good nursing!"

She had drawn him towards the window, till they were standing together
in the full blaze of the setting sun. Then she turned and faced him--a
gaunt wreck of splendid womanhood, her fingers working nervously, whilst
her too brilliant eyes, burni