the table where a tray of refreshments was standing. He did not, and her
nerves tingled and quivered as he passed it by.

He joined her at the window, and they stood together for several seconds
looking out upon the great river with its myriad lights.

She had not the faintest idea as to what was passing in his mind, but
her heart-beats quickened in his silence to such a tumult that at last
she could bear it no longer. She turned back into the room.

He followed her instantly, and she fancied that he sighed.

"Won't you have anything before you go?" he said.

She shook her head.

"Good-night!" she said almost inaudibly.

For a moment--no longer--her hand lay in his. She did not look at him.
There was something in his touch that thrilled through her like an
electric current.

But his grave "Good-night!" had in it nothing startling, and by the time
she reached her own room she had begun to ask herself what cause there
had been for her agitation. She was sure he must have thought her very
strange, very abrupt, even ungracious.

And at that her heart smote her, for he had been kinder that evening
than ever before. The fragrance of the lilies at her breast reminded her
how kind.

She bent her head to them, and suddenly, as though the flowers exhaled
some potent charm, impulse--blind, domineering impulse--took possession
of her.

She turned swiftly to the door, and in a moment her feet were bearing
her, almost without her voluntary effort, back to the room she had left.

The door was unlatched. She pushed it open, entering impetuously. And
she came upon Caryl suddenly--as he had come upon her that
afternoon--sunk in a chair by the window, with his head in his hands.

He rose instantly at her entrance, rose and closed the window; then
lowered the blind very quietly, very slowly, and finally turned round to
her.

"What is it? You have forgotten something?"

Except that he was paler than usual, his face bore no trace of emotion.
He looked at her with his heavy eyes gravely, with unfailing patience.

For an instant she stood irresolute, afraid; then again that urging
impulse drove her forward. She moved close to him.

"I only came back to say--I only wanted to tell you--Vivian, I--I was
horrid to you this afternoon. Forgive me!"

She stretched out her trembling hands to him, and he took them, held
them fast, then sharply let them go.

"My dear," he said, "you were in trouble, and I intruded upon you. It
wa