omplications of life! He might borrow money,
but that was a thing to be resorted to only in the last extremity.
Most of the members of his Circle were as poor as himself or poorer.
They were all bound together by the tie of brotherhood, and no one
would have grudged or refused a loan, but Emile scrupled to borrow from
those who were in greater privation than himself.

Sobrenski was fairly well off, but he lived like an ascetic and gave
everything to the Cause; besides, Sobrenski was out of the question.
To appeal to him on Arithelli's behalf would only be to give him a
chance for refusal and a jeer at female conspirators.

Her turquoise rings Emile collected from the table, and put them into
his pocket; her collar of turquoises he rescued from the floor, where
it had fallen when she took off her bodice. The jewels could all be
turned into the money they needed so badly. Of course she had not
saved a single _peseta_. Emile had the handling of her salary, and he
knew that anything left over from the expenses of food and lodging went
in clothes and her particular vanity, dainty boots.

She was lavishly generous to the Hippodrome staff, and there was always
a certain tribute claimed from all its adherents by the Cause.

He did not hunt further for valuables. If there was either money or
jewellery in Arithelli's possession it was sure to be found in quite a
conspicuous place.

The varied life of the city surged to and fro beneath the window, the
varied noises floated up into the room, and under the faded red brocade
curtains, Arithelli turned from side to side and moaned with closed
eyes. A seller of fruit passed, crying his wares.

Emile went down into the street and bought a couple of oranges, and
squeezed the juice into the cup that had been destined for the coffee.

He had not the least idea as to what particular malady Arithelli had
developed, but he knew that fever and delirium always went together,
and that with fever there is invariably thirst. He lifted her up and
pushed the pillow higher to relieve her breathing, but he could hardly
do more than moisten her parched and bitten lips. Then he "tidied" the
bed with masculine pulls and jerks till it was even more untidy than
before, and went back to his chair. There was nothing more to be done
for her in the way of alleviation till the doctor came.

He took up a book, and tried to shut his ears and distract his
thoughts. As he stared unseeingly at the