long drawn out and perfect." Her manner changed.

"I have an idea that perhaps, after all, I'll be here when he gets
back," she added more lightly. "Life still has its interests. But, if I
happen not to be here, tell him why I didn't cable."

"I will tell him," Sonya promised.

Neither of them referred to the subject again.

CHAPTER IX

AN INVITATION

That evening Laurie walked across the square to Doris's studio with a
decision in his stride which definitely expressed his mental attitude.
He had come to the conclusion that something must be done. What this
something would be was still hazy in his mind, but the first step at
least seemed clear. Doris must move.

He was so convinced of the urgency of this step that he brought up the
subject almost before the greetings of guest and hostess were over.
Tossing his hat and coat on a convenient chair, he stood facing Doris,
his hands in his pockets, his black eyes somber.

"We've got to get you out of this, you know," he abruptly announced.

Her eyes, which had brightened at his entrance, grew as somber as his
own. Without replying, she turned, walked across the room to the window,
and stood looking down into the street.

"Is he there?" she asked at last, and without moving her head.

"Shaw? Great Scott, no! At least I didn't see him. I suppose he takes a
few hours off now and then, during the twenty-four; doesn't he?"

"Oh, yes, he comes and goes, sometimes secretly, sometimes openly. I did
not see him at all to-day until late this afternoon. Then he took up his
post across the street just opposite this window, and stood there for
almost an hour."

Laurie ground his teeth.

"What does he expect to gain by that performance?"

"Several things, I suppose. For one, he wants to get on my nerves; and
he does," she added somberly, and still without turning.

Laurie made a vague tour around the room and brought up by her side.

"You know," he confessed, "I haven't really taken this thing in yet.
Even now, this minute, it doesn't seem possible to me that Shaw could do
you any real harm."

She nodded. "I know. Why should it? Even to me it is like a nightmare
and I keep hoping to wake up. There are hours, even days, when I
convince myself that it isn't real." She stopped. "It must be very hard
for any one else to understand," she ended, when he did not speak.

"Nevertheless," admitted Laurie, "I can't forget it. I can't think of
anything else."

She too