nd, as he looked down at the still figure, he told
himself it served her right, and that she would know better in the
future. But he waited until he detected the feeble rise and fall of
her bosom. Then he went out, conscious of a certain feeling of relief
in spite of his rage.

CHAPTER XV

A "PARTY CALL"

Peter led the way up the path from the gate of Eve's garden. He had
taken the lead in this visit; he felt it was necessary. Jim Thorpe's
frame of mind was not to be trusted, should they encounter Henderson.
He knocked at the door, reassured that Eve was within by the light in
her parlor window.

At first he received no reply, and in silence the two men waited. Then
Peter knocked again. This time Elia's voice was heard answering his
summons.

"Come in."

Peter raised the latch, and, closely followed by Jim, passed
directly into the parlor. He glanced swiftly round at the litter of
dressmaking, but Eve was not there. Jim's eyes, too, wandered over the
familiar little room. It was the first time he had entered it since
the day he had ridden over to ask her to marry him.

He saw Eve now in every detail of the furnishing; he saw her in the
work he had watched her at so often; he saw her in the very atmosphere
of the place, and the realization of all he had lost smote him sorely.
Then there came to him the object of his present visit, and he grew
sick with the intensity of his feelings.

But the room was empty, and yet it had been Elia's voice that
summoned them to enter. With only the briefest hesitation Peter
started toward the kitchen door, and Jim, his thoughts running riot
over the past, mechanically followed him. And as they reached it,
and Peter's great bulk filled up the opening, it was the latter's
sharp exclamation that brought Jim to matters of the moment. He
drew close up behind his companion and looked over his shoulder,
and a startled, horror-stricken cry broke from him.

"Look!" he cried, and the horror in his voice was in his eyes, and the
expression of his face.

The scene held them both for a second, and for years it lived in Jim's
memory. The ill-lit kitchen with its single lamp; the yellow rays
lighting up little more than the untidy supper-table with the
misshapen figure of Elia sitting on the far side of it, calmly
devouring his evening meal. The rest of the room was shadowy, except
where the light from the cook-stove threw its lurid rays upon the
white face and crumpled figure of