hat, for the present, the
man was immune against all sentiment, or his calm brutality had had a
correspondingly hardening effect upon her.

"If I agree," she said, "will you give me back my letters?"

"No!" he answered.

"What are you going to do with them?"

"It depends," he said, "upon you. I enter into no engagement. I make no
promises. I simply remind you that it would be equally possible for me
to take my place in the world as a rehabilitated Wingrave Seton. Ten
years ago I yielded to sentiment. Today I have outlived it."

"Ten years ago," she murmured, "you were a hero. God knows what you are
now!"

"Exactly!" he answered smoothly. "I am free to admit that I am a puzzle
to myself. I find myself, in fact, a most interesting study."

"I consent," she said, with a little shudder. "I am going now."

"You are a sensible woman," he answered. "Aynesworth, show Lady Ruth to
her carriage."

She rose to her feet. Hung from her neck by a chain of fine gold, was
a large Chinchilla muff. She stood before him, and her hands had sought
its shelter. Timidly she withdrew one.

"Will you shake hands with me, Wingrave?" she asked timidly.

He shook his head.

"Forgive me," he said; "I may better my manners in America, but a
present I cannot."

She passed out of the room. Aynesworth followed, closing the door behind
them. In the corridor she stumbled, and caught at his arm for support.

"Don't speak to me," she gasped. "Take me where I can sit down."

He found her a quiet corner in the drawing room. She sat perfectly still
for nearly five minutes, with her eyes closed. Then she opened them, and
looked at her companion.

"Mr. Aynesworth," she said, "are you so poor that you must serve a man
like that?"

He shook his head.

"It is not poverty," he answered. "I knew his history, and I am
interested in him!"

"You write novels, don't you?" she asked.

"I try," he answered. "His story fascinated me. He stands today in a
unique position to life. I want to see how he will come out of it."

"You knew his story--the truth?"

"Everything," he answered. "I heard it from a journalist who was in
court, his only friend, the only man who knew."

"Where is he now?"

"On his way to Japan."

She drew a little breath between her teeth.

"There were rumors," she said. "It was hard for me at first, but I
lived them down. I was very young then. I ought not to have accepted
his sacrifice. I wish to heaven I had not. I wis