y--sensitive,
self-willed hands. She thought how strange it was, that all the men she
had ever cared for had had fine hands. Even Cecil's, huge as they were,
had been well-moulded. Cecil ... how strange to think of Cecil's hands
while she watched these others.... Life was like that. The tangle of
memory made one thread pull another endlessly. She felt very sad all of
a sudden.

Loring did not say anything more. Presently he jerked the tie from about
his neck and threw it on the floor.

"Hell!" he said heartily.

Sophy laughed, then grew grave. His white face looked so
disproportionately furious to the cause of wrath. He snatched up another
tie and set to work again.

After a while Sophy said in a low voice:

"Morris ... don't you like Bobby?"

"Like him?... Of course I like him.... Damn this tie!"

Sophy waited a moment.

"Morris...."

"Well?"

"What is it, dear? What has vexed you?"

"I should think you could see that for yourself," he said impatiently,
raging with the second tie.

He had never been downright cross with her before. But Sophy understood.
She felt almost as tenderly to him as she had to Bobby on a like
occasion. But the sad feeling grew in her heart. They were jealous of
each other. Jealousy was a hideous guest at life's table. She sighed
unconsciously. He darted a swift glance at her. The droop of her head
touched him suddenly. He turned, catching her to him.

"Oh, Selene!" he groaned. "Don't you see? I'm just a low, mortal wretch
and I'm disgustingly, damnably jealous--that's all. Beautiful-- I swear
it.... I quake in my very vitals when I think that you may love that boy
more than me.... The child of another man--more than me." He held her
fiercely.

She put up her hand to his neck as she leaned against him.

"You needn't be afraid," she said softly. "I couldn't love any one more
than I love you, dear."

He had to be satisfied with this. He was afraid to ask if she loved him
more than she loved her son. But this was what he wanted. This was the
only thing that would satisfy him. And he was not only jealous of Bobby.
As he had said once before, he was jealous of the dead man--of Bobby's
father. This is perhaps the bitterest jealousy of all--the jealousy of
the dead who has once been dearest to what is now our dearest.

XIV

It seemed very strange to Sophy, as unreal as this new love in another
way, to find herself once more in the noisy glitter of the world after
her t