would be behind these curtains. It's worth
being a prisoner for an afternoon to know I have eluded him once more."

When she came down to dinner, Kurt was again visibly impressed by her
appearance. She wore another of her recently acquired gowns, a black one
of sheer filmy material. Her hair, rippling back from her brows, was
coiled low. Her face was pale and yet young and flowerlike. There was a
new touch of wistfulness about her--a charm of repose, almost of dignity.

Later, when the children had gone upstairs, she went into the dimly
lighted sitting-room and sat down at the piano, touching softly and
lightly the notes of a minor melody, an erratic little air rising and
falling in a succession of harmonies.

"Pen!"

She turned exquisite eyes to Kurt's ardent gaze.

"I like you in this dress. I didn't know dress could so alter a person."
There was the tone of unrepressed admiration in his voice.

"Hebby is right," she thought with a fleeting smile. "He said there was
something very effective about black to men--especially to men who know
nothing about clothes."

"I must ask you something," he continued, speaking in troubled tone. "This
man Hebler--does he know--"

She stopped playing.

"He knows me as you know me, as the thief, and he knows--something else
about me."

Her fingers again found their way to the keys.

Reluctantly he found himself succumbing to the witchery of her plaintive
tone and her quivering lips. Then he rallied and said relentlessly.

"Something worse?"

"Is there anything worse than stealing?" she asked artlessly. "His
acquaintance with me is not exactly of a personal nature. He admits but
one of my shortcomings--that he never knows where to find me--literally.
He'd think so more than ever if he could see me now."

"Does he love you?"

She stopped playing, rose from the piano bench and with an odd little
laugh, crossed the room to the window seat. He followed.

"Hebby love me? Well, no! There have been times when I think he positively
hated me. But I wish he hadn't come. He brings up--unpleasant memories."

"Then let's talk of something pleasant--very pleasant. About Marta, Jo's
Marta. I met them together yesterday. I had my answer to the question I
asked you."

"They are very happy," she said wistfully. "I am so glad."

"Pen, why did you make me think, that first day I met you, that it was you
Jo met and loved in Chicago?"

"Did I make you think so? You assumed I was the