h turned very cold.

"Patient?" she said indistinctly.

He drew her suddenly closer to him; and before she could resist, he had
kissed her hair, her lips, her neck.

"Yes, patient, because I have never before asked for this. Because I
have been content to kiss your hand, when I might long ago----" He bent
over her again. But something in the white face and wild eyes that
confronted him arrested him. He drew back and looked at her.

"Come!" he said. "The play is over! Give me a kiss of your own accord."

Clodagh said nothing. Terror mastered her.

"Come! Give me a kiss!"

She lay almost passive in his embrace, her lips parted, her eyes fixed
on his.

He gave another short laugh, half indulgent, half triumphant.

"What a little saint! Come! Show me why you came to me to-night! Be
human! Be what you know you are!"

Clodagh made no answer; but he felt her sway a little in his arms.

"What is it?" he asked sharply. Selfish annoyance was written on his
face, though he asked the question solicitously.

"I feel faint," she said--"a little faint."

"Faint? Nonsense! It will pass. Rest for a moment." Without ceremony,
he half lifted her across the room to a couch that stood between the
fireplace and the door.

"Poor little girl! Don't be frightened! It will pass in a minute. Is
there anything you would like?"

Clodagh opened her eyes.

"A little water, I think," she said in a tremulous voice.

His face cleared.

"Or some champagne! Nothing would pick you up like a glass of
champagne. Why did I not think of it before? Lie perfectly still! We
will have some champagne in one moment."

With the possibilities held out by the idea he turned eagerly from the
couch, and crossed the room to the electric bell that was placed beside
his desk.

But, quick as lightning, the instant his back was turned, Clodagh was
on her feet. With a movement so swift and silent that only fear could
have inspired it, she slipped to the door, opened it, and was speeding
down the long corridor to the stairs.

The house was silent. The upper portion seemed darker than when she had
arrived. The hall alone lay brightly lighted--a place of hope and
promise, figuring the world outside--the good wholesome world lying
suddenly within her reach.

She ran down the broad stairs, indifferent to the fact that the servant
who had admitted her had risen from a seat near the door, and was
looking at her in frank surprise. Her ears were strained to