king more at her
than at Kerr. She felt herself the dominant spirit. She saw them
acknowledge it, swept along by the high tide of her mood that was rising
to meet her great decisive moment. Yet on the surface the strong pulse
of it appeared as ripples--words, smiles, gay gestures, laughter--rising
like the last bubble on a wave's crest. She was not consciously acting;
she was inspired by the power of what she concealed and must conceal.
And when she left them it was like a triumphant exit; almost it seemed
to her as if she might hear their applause following her.

In the room where, some eight hours before, she and Mrs. Herrick had
talked, Flora waited, fully dressed. It had been early when they had
separated. The strain of the four together had been terrific; and she
was still feeling it, though an hour had passed. She was feeling that,
now her situation was upon her, she was alone. Mrs. Herrick could only
be near her, not with her, and Kerr was still an unknown
quantity--except that he was fire.

And there was Harry, with his terrible certainty, and no apparent thing
to account for it. It could not be there were men in the house without
the servants remarking it; but in the garden? She peered out upon it.
Only tree shadows moved upon the lawn. Nothing glimmered in the walks or
drives. The solitude held her like an enchantment. She listened for the
small sounds in the house to cease, for the lights in the lower story to
go out, proclaiming all the servants were in bed. Even after the
stillness she waited--waited to be sure it was the long stillness.

Finally she crept to the door and opened it boldly wide.

She stood where she was upon the threshold trembling in a cruel fright.
A gas-jet burning far up at the end of the hall, threw a dim light down
the pale, pinkish, naked vista, void of furniture, window or curtain;
and, leaning against the blank wall almost opposite her door, and
directly facing her, was Harry.

Without speaking they looked at each other. He was fully dressed, but
lacking his shoes, as she noted in the acuteness of her startled senses.
The furtive suggestion of those shoeless feet struck her with
horror--formless, unreasoning. It was like an evil dream to find him
there, stolen to her door in the night, waiting outside it without a
sound, looking her steadily, hardily in the eye without a word.

She tried to speak, but, with terror sobbing in her throat, the words
failed. She made a step forwar