speed," she cried, suddenly returning to the abandoned merry mood. She
pushed him gently in her excitement. "Don't you see how rapidly we are
moving? Please go!" There was a terror in her eyes that pleased him.

"Good-by, then," he cried.

"Adieu, my American," she cried quickly.

As he swung out, ready to drop to the ground, she said, her eyes
sparkling with something that suggested mischief, her face more
bewitching than ever under the flicker of the great arc lights:

"You must come to Edelweiss to see me. I shall expect you!" He thought
there was a challenge in the tones. Or was it mockery?

"I will, by heaven, I will!" he exclaimed.

A startled expression flashed across her face, and her lips parted as
if in protestation. As she leaned forward, holding stoutly to the
hand-rail, there was no smile on her countenance.

A white hand fluttered before his eyes, and she was gone. He stood, hat
in hand, watching the two red lights at the end of the train until they
were lost in the night.

V. SENTIMENTAL EXCHANGE

If Lorry slept that night he was not aware of it. The next morning,
after he had breakfasted with his mother, he tried in vain to recall a
minute of the time between midnight and eight a.m. in which he did not
think of the young woman who had flown away with his tranquillity. All
night long he tossed and thought. He counted ten thousand black sheep
jumping over a pasture fence, but, after the task was done and the
sheep had scattered, he was as far from sleep as ever. Her face was
everywhere. Her voice filled his ear with music never-ceasing, but it
was not the lulling music that invites drowsiness. He heard the clock
strike the hours from one to eight, when he arose, thoroughly disgusted
with himself. Everything seemed to taste bitter or to look blue. That
breakfast was a great strain on his natural politeness. He worshipped
his mother, but in several instances that morning he caught himself
just in time to prevent the utterance of some sharp rejoinder to her
pleasant, motherly queries. Twice she was compelled to repeat questions,
his mind being so far away that he heard nothing save words that another
woman had uttered, say twenty-four hours before. His eyes were red, and
there was a heavy droop to the lids; his tones were drawling and his
voice strangely without warmth; his face was white and tired.

"You are not well, Grenfall," his mother said, peering anxiously into
his eyes. "The trip h