we took our places before the minister, with his
little, black-bound book open. And as he read in a voice that was
genuinely impressive those words that no voice could make
unimpressive, I watched her, saw her paleness blanch into pallor, saw
the dusk creep round her eyes until they were like stars waning
somberly before the gray face of dawn. When they closed and her head
began to sway, I steadied her with my arm. And so we stood, I with my
arm round her, she leaning lightly against my shoulder. Her answers
were mere movements of the lips.

At the end, when I kissed her cheek, she said: "Is it over?"

"Yes," McCabe answered--she was looking at him. "And I wish you all
happiness, Mrs. Blacklock."

She stared at him with great wondering eyes. Her form relaxed. I
carried her to a chair. Joe came with a glass of champagne; she drank
some of it, and it brought life back to her face, and some color. With
a naturalness that deceived even me for the moment, she smiled up at
Joe as she handed him the glass. "Is it bad luck," she asked, "for me
to be the first to drink my own health?" And she stood, looking
tranquilly at everyone--except me.

I took McCabe into the hall and paid him off. When we came back, I
said: "Now we must be going."

"Oh, but surely you'll stay for supper!" cried Joe's wife.

"No," replied I, in a tone which made it impossible to insist. "We
appreciate your kindness, but we've imposed on it enough." And I shook
hands with her and with Allie and the minister, and, linking Joe's arm
in mine, made for the door. I gave the necessary directions to my
chauffeur while we were waiting for Anita to come down the steps.
Joe's daughter was close beside her, and they kissed each other
good-by, Alva on the verge of tears, Anita not suggesting any emotion
of any sort. "To-morrow--sure," Anita said to her. And she answered:
"Yes, indeed--as soon as you telephone me." And so we were off, a
shower of rice rattling on the roof of the brougham--the slatternly
manservant had thrown it from the midst of the group of servants.

Neither of us spoke. I watched her face without seeming to do so, and
by the light of occasional street lamps saw her studying me furtively.
At last she said: "I wish to go to my uncle's now."

"We are going home," said I.

"But the house will be shut up," said she, "and everyone will be in
bed. It's nearly midnight. Besides, they might not----" She came to a
full stop.

"We are going home,"