erect and striking, both had noble features, natural grace and
vivacity, constitutions which fitted them for keen enjoyment and zest in
life. But from their infancy onward they had been subjected to
influences as different as it is possible to imagine. To one duty had
been the ideal and the guide of existence; the other had been taught to
aim at pleasure as the supreme good. One had ripened into a
self-sacrificing woman, to whom a spontaneous feeling of duty was more
imperative than the rules and laws in which she had been trained; the
other had degenerated into a wretched slave of her instincts, for whom
the pursuit of pleasure had become a hateful yet inevitable servitude.
Perhaps, as they stood side by side, the immeasurable distance which
divided them mind from mind and body from body was apparent to both.
Perhaps each thought at that moment of the man whose life they had so
deeply affected--perhaps each realized what Alan Walcott must have
thought and felt about the other.

"Why have you brought me here?" said Cora at last in a defiant voice.

"It was a sudden thought. I saw you, and I wanted to speak to you."

"Then you have no message as you pretended? You are very polite,
mademoiselle. You are pleased to amuse yourself at my expense?"

"No, I am not amusing myself," said Lettice. There was a ring of sadness
in her tones, which did not escape Cora's attention. She argued weakness
from it, and grew more bold.

"Are you not afraid?" she said, menacingly. "Do you not think that I
have the power to hurt--as I have hurt you before--the power, and, still
more, the will?"

"I am not afraid."

"Not afraid! You are hatefully quiet and impassive, just like--ah, like
all your race! Are you always so cold and still? Have you no blood in
your veins?"

"If you will sit down," said Lettice steadily, "I will tell you
something that you ought to know. It is useless trying to frighten me
with your threats. Sit down and rest if you will; I will get you food or
coffee, if you care for either. But there is something that I want to
say."

Cora stared at her scornfully. "Food! Coffee! Do you think I am
starving?" she asked, with a savage little laugh. "I have as much money
as I want--more than you are ever likely to have, mademoiselle. You are
very naive, mon enfant. You invite me into your room--Lettice Campion
invites Cora Walcott into her room!--where nobody knows us, nobody could
trace us--and you quietly ask me to eat a