ark sitting at a console table, with
his back to the room and a cup of tea before him. That was, in fact, his
favorite drink at all hours of the day or night. To see Fernand was bad
enough, but to see the master mind of all the evil that passed around
her was too much. The girl inwardly thanked Heaven that his back was
turned and started to pass him as softly as possible.

"Just a minute, Ruth," he called, as she was almost at the door of the
room.

For a moment there was a frantic impulse in her to bolt like a foolish
child afraid of the dark. In the next apartment were light and warmth
and eager faces and smiles and laughter, and here, behind her, was the
very spirit of darkness calling her back. After an imperceptible
hesitation she turned.

Mark had not turned in his chair, but it was easy to discover how he had
known of her passing. A small oval mirror, fixed against the wall before
him, had shown her image. How much had it betrayed, she wondered, of her
guiltily stealthy pace? She went to him and found that he was leisurely
and openly examining her in the glass, as she approached, his chin
resting on one hand, his thin face perfectly calm, his eyes hazy with
content. It was a habit of his to regard her like a picture, but she had
never become used to it; she was always disconcerted by it, as she was
at this moment.

He rose, of course, when she was beside him, and asked her to sit down.

"But I've hardly touched a card," she said. "This isn't very
professional, you know, wasting a whole evening."

She was astonished to see him flush to the roots of his hair. His voice
shook. "Sit down, please."

She obeyed, positively inert with surprise.

"Do you think I keep you at this detestable business because I want the
money?" he asked. "Dear Heaven! Ruth, is that what you think of me?"
Fortunately, before she could answer, he went on: "No, no, no! I have
wanted to make you a free and independent being, my dear, and that is
why I have put you through the most dangerous and exacting school in the
world. You understand?"

"I think I do," she replied falteringly.

"But not entirely. Let me pour you some tea? No?"

He sighed, as he blew forth the smoke of a cigarette. "But you don't
understand entirely," he continued, "and you must. Go back to the old
days, when you knew nothing of the world but me. Can you remember?"

"Yes, yes!"

"Then you certainly recall a time when, if I had simply given
directions, you w