ssions, while they deepened his pity also increased his constraint,
since, whichever way he sought a free outlet for sympathy, it was blocked
by the fear of committing a blunder.

Suddenly it struck him that his silence must seem almost as accusatory as
that of the men he had despised for turning from her; but before he could
find the fitting word she had cut him short with a question.

"Do you know of a quiet hotel? I can send for my maid in the morning."

"An hotel--HERE--that you can go to alone? It's not possible."

She met this with a pale gleam of her old playfulness. "What IS, then?
It's too wet to sleep in the gardens."

"But there must be some one----"

"Some one to whom I can go? Of course--any number--but at THIS hour? You
see my change of plan was rather sudden----"

"Good God--if you'd listened to me!" he cried, venting his helplessness
in a burst of anger.

She still held him off with the gentle mockery of her smile. "But haven't
I?" she rejoined. "You advised me to leave the yacht, and I'm leaving it."

He saw then, with a pang of self-reproach, that she meant neither to
explain nor to defend herself; that by his miserable silence he had
forfeited all chance of helping her, and that the decisive hour was past.

She had risen, and stood before him in a kind of clouded majesty, like
some deposed princess moving tranquilly to exile.

"Lily!" he exclaimed, with a note of despairing appeal; but--"Oh, not
now," she gently admonished him; and then, in all the sweetness of her
recovered composure: "Since I must find shelter somewhere, and since
you're so kindly here to help me----"

He gathered himself up at the challenge. "You will do as I tell you?
There's but one thing, then; you must go straight to your cousins, the
Stepneys."

"Oh--" broke from her with a movement of instinctive resistance; but he
insisted: "Come--it's late, and you must appear to have gone there
directly."

He had drawn her hand into his arm, but she held him back with a last
gesture of protest. "I can't--I can't--not that--you don't know Gwen: you
mustn't ask me!"

"I MUST ask you--you must obey me," he persisted, though infected at
heart by her own fear.

Her voice sank to a whisper: "And if she refuses?"--but, "Oh, trust
me--trust me!" he could only insist in return; and yielding to his touch,
she let him lead her back in silence to the edge of the square.

In the cab they continued to remain silent through the brief