down again at her sewing with a faint smile:

"I shall not attempt to enter that world as his wife, Mrs. Collis, or to
draw him out of it.... And I hope that you will not be anxious any
more."

She laid aside her work and rose to her slender height, smilingly, as
though the elder woman had terminated the interview; and Lily, utterly
confounded, rose, too, as Valerie offered her hand in adieu.

"Miss West," she began, not perfectly sure of what she was saying,
"I--scarcely dare thank you--for what you have
said--for--my--brother's--sake--"

Valerie laughed: "I would do much more than that for him, Mrs.
Collis.... Only I must first be sure of what is really the best way to
serve him."

Lily's gloved hand tightened over hers; and she laid the other one over
it:

"You are so generous, so sweet about it!" she said unsteadily. "And I
look into your face and I know you are good--_good_--all the way
through--"

Valerie laughed again:

"There isn't any real evil in me.... And I am not astonishingly
generous--merely sensible. I knew from the first that I couldn't marry
him--if I really loved him," she added, under her breath.

They were at the door now. Lily passed out into the entry, halted,
turned impulsively, the tears in her eyes, and put both arms tenderly
around the girl.

"You poor child," she whispered. "You dear, brave, generous girl! God
knows whether I am right or wrong. I am only trying to do my
duty--trying to do what is best for him."

Valerie looked at her curiously:

"Yes, you cannot choose but think of him if you really love him.... That
is the way it is with love."

Afterward, sewing by the window, she could scarcely see the stitches for
the clinging tears. But they dried on her lashes; not one fell. And when
Rita came in breezily to join her at luncheon she was ready, her
costume mended and folded in her hand-satchel, and there remained
scarcely even a redness of the lids to betray her.

That evening she did not stop for tea at Neville's studio; and, later,
when he telephoned, asking her to dine with him, she pleaded the
feminine prerogative of tea in her room and going to bed early for a
change. But she lay awake until midnight trying to think out a _modus
vivendi_ for Neville and herself which, would involve no sacrifice on
his part and no unhappiness for anybody except, perhaps, for herself.

The morning was dull and threatened rain, and she awoke with a slight
headache, remembering tha