afraid. Nor you either, Florrie. Come on, old girl. Chance it."

"I'll think it over," said Madam Fulton. The brightness had come back to
her eye. So much was gained, at any rate, Billy told himself. "There's
that handsome girl coming, Tom's widow.--Electra!"

Electra's scales were beginning, with a serious emphasis.

"I love to see them together," Madam Fulton said. "She makes Electra mad
as hops."

Rose was coming very fast. She had the walk of women well trained, for
the stage perhaps, the spring and rhythm of art superadded to nature's
willingness. She wore no hat, and the sun made her bright hair brighter
and brought out the tragic meaning in her face. She had been thinking in
the night, and this morning forbade herself to falter. All through her
fluctuating moods there had been a division of joy and dread. The
perplexing questions of her past lay heavily upon her; but when she
thought of Osmond, she was light as air. He made everything easy, his
simplicity, his implied truth. She felt a great loyalty to what seemed
good to him. Her conscious life throughout the night and morning became
a reaching out of hands to him in the passionate asseveration that she
would be true.

Electra came, in answer to Madam Fulton's call. She, too, was grave, but
with a hint of expectation on her face. She had been looking for
MacLeod. Since their meeting, she had done nothing but wait for him
again. Rose was running up the steps. She glanced from one to another of
them with a recognizing swiftness, and when Billy Stark rose and placed
a chair for her, she thanked him with a word, and took her place behind
it, her hands upon it, so that she faced them all. There was a momentary
hush. Madam Fulton put up her eyeglasses and gazed at her curiously, as
if she were a species of tableau arranged for notice. Billy Stark felt
uneasily as if this were one of the occasions for him to take himself
away. Rose spoke rapidly, in her beautifully modulated voice, but
without emotion.

"I want to tell you something. I was not his wife."

Electra was the one to show dramatic feeling. She threw her hands up
slightly.

"I knew it." Her lips formed the words. Her triumphant glance went from
one to another, saying, "I told you so."

Rose stood there with perfect self-possession, very white now and with
the chilled look that accompanies difficult resolution. She glanced at
Madam Fulton, and the old lady met her gaze eagerly with an unbelieving
qu