main, to taste and savour
it. She had tasted it--was it sweet?--that sense of being swept away,
engulfed by an elemental power beyond them both, yet in them both? She
felt him drawing her to him, and she struggling yet inwardly longing to
yield. And the scarlet stain on his handkerchief--when she thought of
that her blood throbbed, her face burned.

At last the door of the inner office opened, and Ditmar came out and
stood by the rail. His voice was queer, scarcely recognizable.

"Miss Bumpus--would you mind coming into my room a moment, before you
leave?" he said.

She rose instantly and followed him, closing the door behind her, but
standing at bay against it, her hand on the knob.

"I'm not going to touch you--you needn't be afraid," he said. Reassured
by the unsteadiness of his voice she raised her eyes to perceive that his
face was ashy, his manner nervous, apprehensive, conciliatory,--a Ditmar
she had difficulty in recognizing. "I didn't mean to frighten, to offend
you," he went on. "Something got hold of me. I was crazy, I couldn't help
it--I won't do it again, if you'll stay. I give you my word."

She did not reply. After a pause he began again, repeating himself.

"I didn't mean to do it. I was carried away--it all happened before I
knew. I--I wouldn't frighten you that way for anything in the world."

Still she was silent.

"For God's sake, speak to me!" he cried. "Say you forgive me--give me
another chance!"

But she continued to gaze at him with widened, enigmatic eyes--whether of
reproach or contempt or anger he could not say. The situation transcended
his experience. He took an uncertain step toward her, as though half
expecting her to flee, and stopped.

"Listen!" he pleaded. "I can't talk to you here. Won't you give me a
chance to explain--to put myself right? You know what I think of you, how
I respect and--admire you. If you'll only let me see you somewhere
--anywhere, outside of the office, for a little while, I can't tell you
how much I'd appreciate it. I'm sure you don't understand how I feel--I
couldn't bear to lose you. I'll be down by the canal--near the bridge
--at eight o'clock to-night. I'll wait for you. You'll come? Say you'll
come, and give me another chance!"

"Aren't you going to finish your letters?" she asked.

He stared at her in sheer perplexity. "Letters!" he exclaimed. "Damn the
letters! Do you think I could write any letters now?"

As a faint ray in dark waters, a gl