grateful to you for believing in me and I--I'd like to know
why you turned me down this afternoon. But I probably never shall. I--I'll
be going now."

He was actually moving toward the door, and she, almost fainting with
emotion, was rallying her strength for a last appeal when the bell in the
hall tinkled sharply. Mother Bonneton answered the call and returned a
moment later followed by the doorkeeper from below, a cheery little woman
who bustled in carrying a note.

"It's for the gentleman," she explained, "from a lady waiting in a
carriage. It's very important." With this she delivered a note to Kittredge
and added in an exultant whisper to the sacristan's wife that the lady had
given her a franc for her trouble.

"A lady waiting in a carriage!" chuckled Mother Bonneton. "What kind of a
lady?"

"Oh, very swell," replied the doorkeeper mysteriously "Grande toilette,
bare shoulders, and no hat. I should think she'd take cold."

"Poor thing!" jeered the other. And then to Kittredge: "I suppose this is
_another one_ you haven't seen for six months."

Kittredge stood as if in a daze staring at the note. He read it, then read
it again, then he crumpled it in his hand, muttering: "O God!" And his face
was white.

"Good-by!" he said to Alice in extreme agitation. "I don't know what you
think of this, I can't stop to explain, I--I must go at once!" And taking
up his hat and cane he started away.

"But you'll come back?" cried the girl.

"No, no! This is the end!"

She went to him swiftly and laid a hand on his arm. "Lloyd, you _must_ come
back. You must come back to-night. It's the last thing I'll ever ask you.
You need never see me again but--_you must come back to-night_."

She stood transformed as she spoke, not pleading but commanding and
beautiful beyond words.

"It may be very late," he stammered.

"I'll wait until you come," she said simply, "no matter what time. I'll
wait. But you'll surely come, Lloyd?"

He hesitated a moment and then, before the power of her eyes: "I'll surely
come," he promised, and a moment later he was gone.

Then the hours passed, anxious, ominous hours! Ten, eleven, twelve! And
still Alice waited for her lover, silencing Mother Bonneton's grumblings
with a look that this hard old woman had once or twice seen in the girl's
face and had learned to respect. At half past twelve a carriage sounded in
the quiet street, then a quick step on the stairs. Kittredge had kept his
word.