waited for him.

"Do you know the way?" she asked, without looking at him.

He took her by the arm, and again she had a wayward thought of the
hand of the law. She knew now what it felt like to be marshalled by
a policeman. She almost uttered a remark to that effect, but, glancing
up at him, decided that it would be out of place. For the man's harsh
features were so sternly set that she wondered if Adela's careless talk
had aroused his anger.

She said nothing, therefore, and he led her to the retreat her
sister-in-law had mentioned in unbroken silence. It was certainly not a
very artistic corner. A few straggling plants in pots decorated it, but
they looked neglected and shabby. Yet the thought went through her, it
might have been a bower of delight had they been in the closer accord of
lovers who desire naught but each other.

The place was deserted, lighted only by a high window that looked into a
billiard-room. The window was closed, but the rattle of the balls and
careless voices of the players came through the silence. A dusty bench
was let into the wall below it.

"Do you like this place?" asked Fletcher Hill.

She glanced around her with a little nervous laugh. "It's as good as any
other, isn't it?"

His hand still held her arm. He bent slightly, looking into her face.
"I've been wanting to talk to you," he said.

"Have you?" She tried to meet his look, but failed. "What about?" she
said, almost in a whisper.

He bent lower. "Dot, are you afraid of me?" he said.

That brought her eyes to his face with a jerk. "I--I--no--of course not!"
she stammered, in confusion.

"Quite sure?" he said.

She collected herself with an effort. "Quite," she told him with
decision, and met his gaze with something of a challenge in her own.

But he disconcerted her the next moment. She felt again the man's grim
mastery behind the iron of his patience. "I want to talk to you," he
said, "about our marriage."

"Ah!" It was scarcely more than a sharp intake of the breath, and as it
escaped again Dot turned white to the lips. His close scrutiny became
suddenly more than she could bear, and she turned sharply from him.

He kept his hand upon her arm, but he made no further effort to restrain
her, merely waiting mutely for her to speak.

In the room behind them there came the smart knocking of the balls, and
a voice cried, "By Jove, he's fluked again! It's the devil's own luck!"

Dot flinched a little. The careless voi