wants to book one for me, too. Otherwise she says it's all off."

"Ah! What did you tell her?"

"I promised I'd go."

She drew in her breath sharply.

"You promised to go--on the 8th!"

"There was nothing else to do. I can't throw away an opportunity like
that. I've told you so all along. Of course I could always change my
mind at the last minute ... if anything happened."

His wandering gaze came back to her, and for a long moment they looked
at each other in silence. Then Therese bit her lip and turned away.

"What did Sartorius say when you talked to him yesterday?"

"Oh, nothing whatever. He won't express an opinion beyond the fact
that the old boy's age and general condition are against him. There's
not much in that. I wouldn't mind betting even money that he'll pull
through this and go on for another ten or fifteen years."

She shook her head slowly, looking away from him.

"No ... I do not think he will do that. Somehow I have a feeling ...
I am almost sure this time ... he will not live."

"Why?" he demanded quickly.

"Fleurestine. You know what I told you."

"Rot! Besides, she only said he would be ill; she didn't pretend to
see the outcome."

Again she shook her head.

"What I told you was not quite true. She told me he would not recover;
she saw me dressed in black ..."

"Good God! Why didn't you say so before?"

She gave him a shrewd glance.

"But, Arthur, you don't believe in these things."

"Well, I don't know. I don't say I disbelieve in them exactly. I--you
might have said something before, you know," he explained in an injured
tone.

"But, my dear, I couldn't! It seemed so--so cold-blooded, so
calculating. I couldn't let you think of me as calculating, could I?
You might not care for me so much."

He scarcely heard her. A change had come over him, he was apparently
filled with a nervous elation, moving jerkily around the room, snapping
his fingers, whistling softly under his breath, picking up small
objects and examining them unseeingly, then setting them down again.
Therese watched him narrowly, suspicion deepening in her eyes. At last
she spoke.

"Arthur, come to me."

He approached her mechanically, engrossed in his own thoughts.

"No, closer. I want to look at you."

He met her gaze without interest, looking through her at some vision
beyond.

"Arthur, all you are thinking about is the money. The thought of that
makes you happy. Is not tha