e said
serenely. Then, looking up with a gay, almost childish toss of her
head, like a schoolgirl absolved of misdemeanours unnumbered, she
smiled wisely at Ailsa, and went away to her dying boy from New
Hampshire.

The closed door fascinated Ailsa, distressed, harrowed her, till
she stood there twisting her hands between desire and pallid
indecision.

Leaden her limbs, for she could not stir them to go forward or to
retire; miserably she stood there, swayed by fear and courage
alternately, now rigid in bitter self-contempt, now shivering lest
he fling open the door and find her there, and she see the mockery
darkening his eyes----

And, "Oh-h!" she breathed, "is there nothing on earth but this
shame for me?"

Suddenly she thought of Celia, and became frightened. Suppose
Celia had gone to the kitchen! What would Celia think of her
attitude toward the son of Constance Berkley? She had never told
Celia that she had seen Berkley or that she even knew of his
whereabouts. What would Celia think!

In her sudden consternation she had walked straight to the closed
door. She hesitated an instant; then she opened the door. And
Berkley, seated as he had been seated that Christmas Eve, all alone
by the burning candle, dropped his hands from his face and looked
up. Then he rose and stood gazing at her.

She said, haughtily: "I suppose I am laying myself open to
misconstruction and insult again by coming here to speak to you."

"Did you come to speak to me, Ailsa?"

"Yes. Celia Craig is here--upstairs. I have never told her that
you have even been in this place. She does not know you are here
now. If she finds out----"

"I understand," he said wearily. "Celia shall not be informed of
my disgrace with you--unless you care to tell her."

"I do not care to tell her. Is there any reason to distress her
with--such matters?"

"No," he said. "What do you wish me to do? Go out somewhere--"
He glanced vaguely toward the darkness. "I'll go anywhere you
wish."

"Why did you come--again?" asked Ailsa coldly.

"Orders--" he shrugged--"I did not solicit the detail; I could not
refuse. Soldiers don't refuse in the army."

She stood looking at the floor for a moment. Then: "Why have you
changed your name?"

"It's not a permanent change," he said carelessly.

"Oh. You wish to remain unrecognised in your regiment?"

"While my service lasts."

Her lips formed the question again; and he understood, though s