aces before
the minister, with his little, black-bound book open. And as he read in a
voice that was genuinely impressive those words that no voice could make
unimpressive, I saw her paleness blanch into pallor, saw the dusk creep
round her eyes until they were like stars waning somberly before the gray
face of dawn. When they closed and her head began to sway, I steadied her
with my arm. And so we stood, I with my arm round her, she leaning lightly
against my shoulder. Her answers were mere movements of the lips.

At the end, when I kissed her cheek, she said: "Is it over?"

"Yes," McCabe answered--she was looking at him. "And I wish you all
happiness, Mrs. Blacklock."

At that name, her new name, she stared at him with great wondering eyes;
then her form relaxed. I carried her to a chair. Joe came with a glass of
champagne; she drank some of it, and it brought life back to her face, and
some color. With a naturalness that deceived even me for the moment, she
smiled up at Joe as she handed him the glass. "Is it bad luck," she asked,
"for me to be the first to drink my own health?" And she stood, looking
tranquilly at every one--except me.

I took McCabe into the hall and paid him off.

When we came back, I said: "Now we must be going."

"Oh, but surely you'll stay for supper!" cried Joe's wife.

"No," replied I, in a tone that made it impossible to insist. "We
appreciate your kindness, but we've imposed on it enough." And I shook
hands with her and with Allie and the minister, and, linking Joe's arm in
mine, made for the door. I gave the necessary directions to my chauffeur
while we were waiting for Anita to come down the steps. Joe's daughter was
close beside her, and they kissed each other good-by, Alva on the verge of
tears, Anita not suggesting any emotion of any sort. "To-morrow--sure,"
Anita said to her. And she answered: "Yes, indeed--as soon as you telephone
me." And so we were off, a shower of rice rattling on the roof of the
brougham--the slatternly man-servant had thrown it from the midst of the
group of servants.

Neither of us spoke. I watched her face without seeming to do so, and by
the light of occasional street lamps saw her studying me furtively. At last
she said: "I wish to go to my uncle's now."

"We are going home," said I.

"But the house will be shut up," said she, "and every one will be in bed.
It's nearly midnight. Besides, they might not--" She came to a full stop.

"We are going--