proclaimed itself
more real than flesh and blood, and Kerr himself the most real thing in
all her life.

Then what was Harry? The bland implacable pronouncement of Shima had
summoned him up to stand beside Kerr more clearly than her own eyes
could have shown him. Surely she was giving to Kerr what belonged to
Harry, or else she had already given to Harry what ought to have been
Kerr's. That was her last conclusion. It was horrible, it was hopeless,
but it was not untrue. It had crept upon her so softly that it had taken
her unawares. She was appalled at the unreason of passion. Unsought by
him, unclaimed, in every common sense a stranger to him--how could she
belong to him? And yet of that she was sure by the way he had unveiled
her the first night, by the way he had quickened her dreaming into life.
As many times as she had fancied what love was like she had never
dreamed it could be like this. It was mockery that she could be
concerned for one who only wanted of her--plunder. Yet it was so. She
was as tremblingly concerned for his fate as if she owned his whole
devotion; and his fate at this moment, she was convinced, was in Harry's
hands.

Kerr, with his brilliant initiative, might carry him off, but Kerr was
still the quarry. For had not Harry, from the very beginning, known
something about him? Hadn't he at first denied having seen him before,
and then admitted it? Hadn't he dropped hints and innuendoes without
ever an explanation? She remembered the singular fact of the Embassy
ball, twice mentioned, each time with that singular name of Farrell
Wand. And to know--if that _was_ what Harry knew--that a man of such
fame was in a community where a ring of such fame had disappeared--what
further proof was wanted?

Then why didn't Harry speak? And what was going on on his side of the
affair? Harry's side would have been her side a few days before. Now,
unaccountably, it was not. Nor was Kerr's side hers either. She was
standing between the two--standing hesitating between her love of one
and her loyalty to the other and what he represented. The power might be
hers to tip the scales Harry held, either to Kerr's undoing, or to his
protection. At least she thought she might protect him, if she could
discover Harry's secret. Her special, authorized relation to him--her
right to see him often, question him freely--even cajole--should make
that easy. But she shrank from what seemed like betrayal, even though
she did not b