none of them had been invited. With Laurence
Vanderlyn alone had the young mistress of the house had any link of
mutual interests or sympathies; but of flirtation, as that protean word
was understood by those about them, there had been none.

Then, on Christmas Eve, had come the playing of childish games, though
no children were present, for the two-year-old child of the host and
hostess was safe in bed. It was in the chances of one of these games
that Laurence Vanderlyn had for a moment caught Margaret Pargeter in his
arms----

He had released her almost at once, but not before they had exchanged
the long probing look which had told to each their own as well as the
other's secret. Till that moment they had been strangers--from that
moment they were lovers, but lovers allowing themselves none of love's
license, and very soon Vanderlyn had taught himself to be content with
all that Peggy's conscience allowed her to think possible.

She had never known--how could she have known?--what his acquiescence
had cost him. Now and again, during the long years, they had been
compelled to discuss the abnormal relation which Peggy called their
friendship; together they had trembled at the fragile basis on which
what most human beings would have considered their meagre happiness was
founded.

More than once she had touched him to the heart by asserting that she
felt sure that the inscrutable Providence in which she had retained an
almost childish faith, could never be so cruel as to deprive her of the
only source of happiness, apart from her little son, which had come her
way; and so, although their intimacy had become closer, the links which
bound them not only remained platonic, but, as is the way with such
links, tended to become more platonic as the time went on.

Even now, as he sat there with the woman he loved wholly in his power,
lying in his arms with her face pressed to his breast, Vanderlyn's mind
was in a maze of doubt as to what was to be their relationship during
the coming days. Even now he was not sure as to what Peggy had meant
when she had seemed to plead, more with herself than with him, for a
short space of such happiness as during their long intimacy they had
never enjoyed.

All his acquaintances, including his official chief, would have told you
that Laurence Vanderlyn was an accomplished man of the world, and an
acute student of human nature, but now, to-night, he owned himself at
fault. Only one thing w