nald heard her pass through the hall and up the
stairs and then a door closed behind her. Before he had time to gather
his thoughts together he heard a voice outside that made his heart stand
still. Then the front door opened quickly and Maimie and De Lacy stood
in the hall. She was gayly talking. Ranald rose and stood with his back
to the door. Before him was a large mirror which reflected the hall
through the open door. He stood waiting for them to enter.

"Hang up your hat, Captain De Lacy, then go in and find a chair while I
run upstairs," cried Maimie, gayly. "You must learn your way about here
now."

"No," said De Lacy, in a low, distinct voice. "I can wait no longer,
Maimie."

She looked at him a moment as if in fear.

"Come," he said, holding out his hands to her. "There was no chance in
the park, and I can wait no longer." Slowly she came near. "My darling,
my sweetheart," he said, in a low voice full of intense passion. Then,
while she lay in his arms, he kissed her on the lips twice. Ranald stood
gazing in the mirror as if fascinated. As their lips met a low groan
burst from him. He faced about, and with a single step, stood in the
doorway. Shriek after shriek echoed through the house as Maimie sprang
from De Lacy's arms and shrank back to the wall.

"Great heavens," cried De Lacy, "why it's Macdonald! What the deuce do
you mean coming in on people like that?"

"What is it, Maimie," cried her Aunt Frank, hurrying down stairs.

Then she saw Ranald standing in the doorway, with face bloodless,
ghastly, livid. Quickly she went up to him, and said, in a voice
trembling and not ungentle: "Oh, why did you wait, Mr. Macdonald; go
away now, go away."

Ranald turned and looked at her with a curious uncomprehending gaze, and
then said, "Yes, I will go away." He took a step toward Maimie, his eyes
like lurid flames. She shrank from him, while De Lacy stepped in his
path. With a sweep of his arm he brushed De Lacy aside, hurling him
crashing against the wall, and stood before the shrinking girl.

"Good by, Maimie; forget that I loved you once."

The words came slowly from his pallid lips. For some moments he stood
with his burning eyes fastened upon her face. Then he turned slowly from
her and groped blindly for his hat. Miss St. Clair hurried toward him,
found his hat, and putting it in his hand, said, in a broken voice,
while tears poured down her cheeks: "Here it is; good by, good by."

He looked at her a