bitterly.
"Yet it was written in good faith, every word of it."

"Then I should like to read it," she said, with hypocritical interest.
"I am curious to learn what could be the nature of the impressions that
you could be impelled to perpetuate in verse."

"I thought you had no further curiosity to satisfy," he retorted
evasively, his suspicions now entirely dissipated. "And I do not care to
risk subjecting myself to any further indignities."

"That is very unkind of you." The reproof was gravely gentle. "My
interest is not that of mere curiosity, believe me. I prophesied once
that you could write poetry, remember. It would be a great pleasure to
read the vindication of my intuition. _That_ is woman's best trump card,
you know. Please."

She laid her hand on his arm and he fumbled irresolutely with his hat;
she smiled confidently, knowing well that he who hesitates with a woman
is lost. Although greatly against his inclination he took the book from
his inside pocket and put it in her hand, opened at the verse she was so
familiar with.

With a great pretense at its more convenient reading, she went over to
the lamp or the table; but it was really to hide a sudden trepidation
she felt at her own audacity in thus forcing his hand. In order to gain
time she reread it a second and then a third time. In the presence of
the man standing there silently waiting her judgment, the lines took on
a new and strange meaning, an intensity of pathetic appeal that filled
her eyes with tears. She made no attempt to conceal them as she returned
the booklet.

"I thank you," she said very gently. "It is my vindication--and my
answer as well. 'A great Love's ecstasy!' May it be yours--and without
the penalty."

Her face was drawn and wan, and the hand she extended to him as she bade
him good night trembled visibly. He took it in both his and for an
immortal second, happiness was very close to those two young people, had
they only known. But Cupid was ever a mischievous imp and one of his
arrows had only glanced; he laughed derisively and turned his back,
resolving to drive the shaft home mercilessly when time and longing had
worn to the quick this big simpleton's armor of obtuse vanity, as
Douglass, restraining a sudden mad desire to take this woman in his arms
and bruise her mouth with kisses, merely laid his lips respectfully on
the little hand and deferentially held open the door.

At the entrance of the hotel he encountered Red M