things.

"Why should I be sure?" He turned and faced her. "Miss Dear," he said
to himself softly, "Miss Dear," and she saw that in his eyes which
made the moment simpler for her to bear.

She led the way into her drawing-room.

"Light the candles," he said, "this firelight is too good to drown in
a flood of electric light!"

"Is that better?" she asked.

They were standing before the fireplace; the embers had burned to a
gentle glowing radiance. Of the four candles she had lighted, the wick
of only one had taken fire and was burning. Nancy's breath caught in
her throat, and she could not steady it. Collier Pratt took a step
forward and held out his arms.

"No, this is better," he said.

"I thought there was some place in the world where I could
be--comfortable," Nancy said, when she finally lifted her head from
the shoulder of the shabby, immaculate black suit, "but I wasn't quite
sure."

"Are you sure now, you little wonder woman?" He held her at the length
of his arm for a moment and gazed curiously into her face. Then he
drew her slowly toward him again. She met his kiss bravely, so bravely
that he understood the quality of her courage.

"I didn't realize that this would be the first time," he said.

"There couldn't have been any other time," Nancy breathed, "you know
that."

"I didn't know," Collier Pratt said thoughtfully. "Oh! you little
American girls, with your strange, straight-laced little bodies and
your fearless souls!"

"Betty told you something," Nancy cried, scarcely hearing him, "but it
wasn't true. There never has been anybody else." She put her head down
on his shoulder again. "It is comfortable here," she said, "where I
belong."

She felt the sudden passion sweep through him,--the high avid wave of
tenderness and desire,--and she exulted as all purely innocent women
exult when that madness surges first through the veins of the man they
love. He put his hands on her shoulders and pressed her into the
armchair by the fire, and there she took his head on her breast and
understood for all time what it means for a woman to be called the
mother of men.

"You wonder woman," he murmured again.

She brushed the dark hair back from his forehead and kissed his eyes.
"You dear," she said, "you boy, you little boy."

Suddenly through the darkness came the sound of a shrill cry, and the
thud of a fall in some room down the corridor.

"It's Sheila," Nancy said, "she has those little nightmar