saw me in a cab. I can find one at
the corner, and I should feel so much more comfortable if you would
leave me here."

He looked down at her and realised once more the dainty Watteau--like
grace of her oval face and slim, supple figure. He thought of the days
when they had stolen out together on to the hillside, oftenest in the
falling twilight, sometimes even in the grey dawn, and his heart beat
regretfully. How was it that in those days he had never more fully
realised her charms?

"I hate letting you go alone," he said, truthfully; "and I certainly
cannot let you go like this, without any idea as to your whereabouts."

"We are staying in Wensum Street," she said. "I tell you that you may
avoid the neighbourhood. If I am to see you again, it certainly must
not be there."

"Why not here?" he urged; "next Thursday night--say at half-past six. I
must not lose sight of you again--so soon."

She raised her eyes quickly. It was pleasant to her to think that he
cared.

"I think I could manage that," she said, softly.

Douglas went off to his club with a keen sense of having acquired a new
interest in life. He was in that mood when companionship of some sort
is a necessity.

CHAPTER XXI

THE REBELLION OF DREXLEY

"You think," Drexley said, his deep, bass voice trembling with
barely-restrained passion, "that we are all your puppets--that you have
but to touch the string and we dance to your tune. Leave young Jesson
alone, Emily. He has been man enough to strike out a line for himself.
Let him keep to it. Give him a chance."

She shrugged her shoulders and smiled upon him sweetly. She always
preferred Drexley in his less abject moods.

"You have seen him lately, my friend?" she inquired. "He is well, I
hope?"

"Yes, he is well," Drexley answered, bitterly. "Living, like a sensible
man, honestly by the labour of his brain, the friend and companion of
men--not the sycophant of a woman. I envy him."

She pointed lazily towards the door.

"He was man enough to choose for himself," she said; "so may you. To
tell you the truth, my dear friend, when you weary me like this, I feel
inclined to say--go, and when I say go--it is for always."

Then there came into his face something which she had seen there once
before, and which ever since she had recalled with a vague
uneasiness--the look murderous. The veins in his forehead became like
whipcord--there was a red flash in his eyes. Yet his self-control was
mar