ight-eyed man in the
drawing-room had only let her go before kissing her--if he had only
remembered his love for Ann! She knew Horace was waiting for her to
speak; but her mind refused absolutely to concoct a reasonable excuse,
and she could not tell him a deliberate lie, as she had to Ann.

For what seemed many minutes Horace looked at her.

"Fledra," he said at length, "am I worthy of your confidence?"

His question brought her up with a jerk. Would she dare tell him? Would
he be silent if he knew that Sister Ann was being perfidiously used? She
was sure he would not.

"If I tell you something," she began, "you won't never tell anybody?"

"Never, if you don't want me to."

She leaned forward and looked straight at him.

"I just lied to Sister Ann," she said.

Horace's face paled and he grasped the arms of his chair. Presently he
asked sharply:

"Why did you lie to my sister, Fledra?"

"I just did, and you said you wouldn't tell."

"Was it because you lied to her that you cried?"

She tossed his question over in her mind. She intended to be truthful to
him, unless a falsehood were forced from her to shield Ann.

"I cried because Sister Ann was so good to me."

"Are you going to tell me what caused you to be untruthful?" he asked
persistently.

Fledra shook her head dismally.

Immeasurable compassion for the primitive, large-eyed child flooded his
soul, and his next words assumed a more tender tone.

"Of course, you don't mean that you are going to keep it from me?"

Her dark head suddenly dropped again, and a smothered storm of sobs drew
him closer to her. In the silence of arrested speech, he reached for her
fingers, which were twisting nervously in the webby lace on her dress.
With reluctance Flea permitted herself to be drawn from her chair.

"Fledra, stand here--stand close to me!" said he.

Obediently she came to his side, hiding her face in one bended arm. He
could feel the warmth of her bursting breaths, and he could have touched
the lithe body had he put out his hand. And then--and not until
then--did Horace know that he loved her. Yesterday she had seemed only a
child; but at this moment she was transformed into a woman, and his
sudden passion gave him a lover's right to pass his arm about her. In
bewilderment Flea checked her tears and drew back. He had never before
caressed her in any way.

Horace stood up, almost mastered by his new emotion.

"Fledra," he breathed, "Fledra, can't