railty of nerves and tissues had always yearned for; and the miracle
that she had accomplished in his absence became the work of a stranger.
Ah, to let go of heroism now, to be once more her true self--the
fragile complement of this strength! But in the very moment when she
visualized the consummation of that wish, she saw with her mind's eye
the other sitting at the piano in his wheel chair, his music strewn
round him, the air still vibrant with triumph and gratitude, his face
turned eagerly toward the door as toward the source of an infallible
reassurance, of beautiful accomplishment, of life itself.

The palms, forming an arch above him, cast a greenish shadow over
Lawrence's bearded visage, which was shrunken and yellow from the last
attack of fever, in the coast town. This head of his, hovering before
her in a frame of ragged greenery, seemed about to melt away amid one
of her old illusions of the jungle. Gradually she understood that this
was not he whom she had married on that night of romance.

All those thoughts of his were what had changed his face into this new
appearance, hard and misunderstanding, incredulous and ironical, and
crushed with an utter weariness of spirit. And Lilla did not know how
to summon back into being the man that he had been; for all her
inspiration was dragged down by guilt. She remembered the dusty rooms
where even her last tribute of flowers had now turned to dust. She
recalled the victorious seductiveness of genius, of egotism, the lure
of a world in which a myriad women had seemed to be dancing away from
her toward happiness; and then, her moment of complex treason at the
horse show. She quailed as she heard again her vow to Lawrence on
their wedding night, "Forever!" and that word was blended with the
"Forever!" which, a few hours ago, she had uttered in the gloom of
David's bedroom.

He felt her sense of guilt, and misinterpreted it. When her
protestations became more intimate, a smile, half contemptuous and half
commiserating, appeared on his shrunken lips. It struck her silent.

"As I understand it," said Lawrence Teck, "this is your plan, which;
seems to me, in the light of common sense, perfectly hopeless. In
short, he's not to know. You've refused to let me face him----"

"Ah, yes," she sighed, and quoted, "'Infirm of purpose, give me the
daggers.' You'd kill him for me, wouldn't you?"

"You exaggerate. If he were as delicately poised as that, I shouldn't