f what was
happening. It seemed so astonishing to Angela at first that the very air
did not register her actions in some visible way. That they should be
able thus to be alone was not so remarkable, seeing that Eugene's
courtship was being aided and abetted, for her sake, but that her lapse
should not be exposed by some sinister influence seemed
strange--accidental and subtly ominous. Something would happen--that was
her fear. She had not the courage of her desire or need.

By the end of the week, though Eugene was less ardent and more or less
oppressed by the seeming completeness with which he had conquered, he
was not ready to leave. He was sorry to go, for it ended a honeymoon of
sweetness and beauty--all the more wonderful and enchanting because so
clandestine--yet he was beginning to be aware that he had bound himself
in chains of duty and responsibility. Angela had thrown herself on his
mercy and his sense of honor to begin with. She had exacted a promise of
marriage--not urgently, and as one who sought to entrap him, but with
the explanation that otherwise life must end in disaster for her. Eugene
could look in her face and see that it would. And now that he had had
his way and plumbed the depths of her emotions and desires he had a
higher estimate of her personality. Despite the fact that she was older
than he, there was a breath of youth and beauty here that held him. Her
body was exquisite. Her feeling about life and love was tender and
beautiful. He wished he could make true her dreams of bliss without
injury to himself.

It so turned out that as his visit was drawing to a close Angela decided
that she ought to go to Chicago, for there were purchases which must be
made. Her mother wanted her to go and she decided that she would go with
Eugene. This made the separation easier, gave them more time to talk.
Her usual plan was to stay with her aunt and she was going there now.

On the way she asked over and over what he would think of her in the
future; whether what had passed would not lower her in his eyes. He did
not feel that it would. Once she said to him sadly--"only death or
marriage can help me now."

"What do you mean?" he asked, her yellow head pillowed on his shoulder,
her dark blue eyes looking sadly into his.

"That if you don't marry me I'll have to kill myself. I can't stay at
home."

He thought of her with her beautiful body, her mass of soft hair all
tarnished in death.

"You wouldn't do