e hour, the
most eagerly listened-to person in town, longer deny himself that
pleasure?

"Good-by, Hayden," he said hastily, nor waited to hear if he was
answered.

CHAPTER XIX

Hayden's feeling of intense relief at Penfield's departure was succeeded
by an almost numb dejection. The revelations of Horace in regard to
Marcia and the photographs had, to his own horror, occasioned no surprise
in him, and the rest of Penfield's news had sunk into insignificance
beside this confirmation of his suspicions which lay like lead on his
heart and which he had refused to confess even to himself. He seemed to
have known it all the time, to have known it from the moment the
photographs had disappeared. He had no feeling of anger toward her, no
blame for her, it went too deep for that.

It was a gray afternoon, and as it wore on toward evening now and again a
flurry of snow blew whitely from the sullen skies, and the leaping flame
of the fire which had put to rout any lurking shadows was now in turn
defied by them.

"A lady to see you, sir." Tatsu stood at Hayden's elbow.

"A lady to see me? Here?" Hayden roused from his apathy to exclaim.

"Yes, sir."

But before he could make further explanation, or Hayden could give orders
either to ask the lady to enter or to beg that she excuse him, there was
a soft, hesitant footfall, the delicate feminine rustle of trailing
skirts, the faint delicious fragrance of violets, and he sprang to his
feet, his heart pounding. In some mysterious uncannily skilful manner,
Tatsu vanished.

Marcia was very white, her long, dark gown fell about her, her face
gleamed pale as a lily, wistful as regret, from the shadow of her large
black hat.

"Mr. Hayden, Bobby." She made a step toward him. "Why, how tired you
look! You are ill!" she broke off to cry, deep notes of tenderness and
solicitude in her voice.

"I am a little tired," he said, with an effort. "But you, too, look pale.
Do not stand. Come near the fire. Lay aside your furs. I will have some
hot tea brought."

She allowed him to lead her to a chair, her eyes fixed still upon his
face. "Something has worried you, is bothering you still. Isn't it so?"

He dismissed the question. "You must believe me," he said, "when I assure
you that I am quite well, and that everything is all right."

She was still standing, and now she turned to him and laid her hand upon
his sleeve. There was an intensity, almost a wildness in her expressio