and
approved by my Court.

"WILHELM."

Dominey sat as a man enthralled with silence. She watched him.

"Not on your knees yet?" she asked, with faint but somewhat resentful
irony. "Can it be, Leopold, that you have lost your love for me? You
have changed so much and in so many ways. Has the love gone?"

Even to himself his voice sounded harsh and unnatural, his words
instinct with the graceless cruelty of a clown.

"This is not practical," he declared. "Think! I am as I have been
addressed here, and as I must remain yet for months to come--Everard
Dominey, an Englishman and the owner of this house--the husband of Lady
Dominey."

"Where is your reputed wife?" Stephanie demanded, frowning.

"In the nursing home where she has been for the last few months," he
replied. "She has already practically recovered. She cannot remain there
much longer."

"You must insist upon it that she does."

"I ask you to consider the suspicions which would be excited by such a
course," Dominey pleaded earnestly, "and further, can you explain to me
in what way I, having already, according to belief of everybody, another
wife living, can take advantage of this mandate?"

She looked at him wonderingly.

"You make difficulties? You sit there like the cold Englishman whose
place you are taking, you whose tears have fallen before now upon my
hand, whose lips--"

"You speak of one who is dead," Dominey interrupted, "dead until the
coming of great events may bring him to life again. Until that time your
lover must be dumb."

Then her anger blazed out. She spoke incoherently, passionately, dragged
his face down to hers and clenched her fist the next moment as though
she would have struck it. She broke down with a storm of tears.

"Not so hard--not so hard, Leopold!" she implored. "Oh! yours is a
great task, and you must carry it through to the end, but we have his
permission--there can be found a way--we could be married secretly. At
least your lips--your arms! My heart is starved, Leopold."

He rose to his feet. Her arms were still twined about his neck, her lips
hungry for his kisses, her eyes shining up into his.

"Have pity on me, Stephanie," he begged. "Until our time has come there
is dishonour even in a single kiss. Wait for the day, the day you know
of."

She unwound her arms and shivered slightly. Her hurt eyes regarded him
wonderingly.

"Leopold," she faltered, "what has changed you like this? What has dried
up all