ur later--she is quite exhausted now. Could you stay
to-night, Captain Selwyn?"

"Y-es, if you think it better. . . . Wait a moment; I think she has
awakened."

Alixe had turned her head, her lovely eyes wide open.

"Phil!" she cried, "is it you?"

He went forward and took the uplifted hands, smiling down at her.

"Such a horrid dream!" she said pettishly, "about a soft, plump man with
ever so many rings on his hands. . . . Oh, I am glad you came. . . .
Look at this child of mine!" cuddling the staring wax doll closer;
"she's not undressed yet, and it's long, long after bedtime. Hand me her
night-clothes, Phil."

The slim young nurse bent and disentangled a bit of lace and cambric
from a heap on the floor, offering it to Selwyn. He laid it in the hand
Alixe held out, and she began to undress the doll in her arms, prattling
softly all the while:

"Late--oh, so very, very late! I must be more careful of her, Phil;
because, if you and I grow up, some day we may marry, and we ought to
know all about children. It would be great fun, wouldn't it?"

He nodded, forcing a smile.

"Don't you think so?" she persisted.

"Yes--yes, indeed," he said gently.

She laughed, contented with his answer, and laid her lips against the
painted face of the doll.

"When we grow up, years from now--then we'll understand, won't we, Phil?
. . . I am tired with playing. . . . And Phil--let me whisper something.
Is that person gone?"

He turned and signed to the nurse, who quietly withdrew.

"Is she gone?" repeated Alixe.

"Yes."

"Then listen, Phil. Do you know what she and the other one are about all
day? _I_ know; I pretend not to, but I know. They are watching me every
moment--always watching me, because they want to make you believe that I
am forgetting you. But I am not. That is why I made them send for you so
I could tell you myself that I could never, never forget you. . . . I
think of you always while I am playing--always--always I am thinking of
you. You will believe it, won't you?"

"Yes," he said.

Contented, she turned to her doll again, undressing it deftly, tenderly.

"At moments," she said, "I have an odd idea that it is real. I am not
quite sure even now. Do you believe it is alive, Phil? Perhaps, at
night, when I am asleep, it becomes alive. . . . This morning I awoke,
laughing, laughing in delight--thinking I heard you laughing, too--as
once--in the dusk where there were many roses and many stars--big star