from him
seemed so alluring, so desirable. Never had she so fully stirred his
susceptible senses to intoxication as she did at this moment, and never
had he felt his fondness for her so genuine. Yet, when she seemed almost
to offer him herself and her life--if only he would stretch out his arm
and lift her across the stream of dilemma--he could not urge, but sat
tongue-tied. He could think only of the difficulties; and the thought of
them staggered and blinded him. This was not the indecision of a man
weighing the responsibilities of a step which might ruin the life of
another man; it was merely the futility of "the unlit lamp and the
ungirt loin."

"If your husband should hear of this meeting, after your promise of this
morning," suggested Paul, "it might have serious results--I mean for
you."

She shuddered a little at the thought. "I believe he would become a
maniac," she answered, "but this place is safe enough. He would never
think of our coming here. It's too far down-town."

"Too far for calling or shopping," Paul reminded her. "So entirely out
of your accustomed orbit that if he learned of this, he could construe
it only one way--as a clandestine conference."

"But, Paul," she declared, with deep self-pity and a strong appeal to
his instincts of knight-errantry, "I had to talk with you--at any risk.
If--if--it does come to a separation, I shall have absolutely nothing."
Her voice was pathetic. "I suppose I should have to go to work."

She looked sadly at him and shook her dark head until he hated himself
for not assuring her that she would not have to "go to work," yet he
could say nothing.

Then as they sat there in an embarrassed silence, the tall figure of Len
Haswell appeared in the door and the many mirrors of the wall panels
multiplied him into a seeming army of giants.

With him was Norvil Thayre. For such a development Paul Burton found
himself totally unprepared. No ready phrases came to his lips and his
sudden pallor was a seeming confession of guilt. The husband stood for a
moment in the door and his face, too, paled, but that was only
momentary. At once it became fixed in a resolute determination to remain
expressionless. The alert mind of Thayre, grasping the situation,
addressed itself to averting its awkwardness with artless and
inconsequential small talk. He came over to the table and shook hands,
while Len Haswell stood at his elbow, saying nothing. Paul instinctively
offered his hand,