e with deliberate contempt, and his face turned white and then
scarlet, as if under the sting of a lash.

"If you were a man--" he began, infuriated by the insolence of her
speech.

"If I were a man I should be quite able to take care of myself.
Understand, I am seeing you for the last time--"

"Yes, by God, you are!" he cried.

His face was ashen. He had come to his feet, shaken and uncertain. It
was as if each word of hers had been a stab.

"I am glad we can agree so perfectly on that point. Will you kindly
close the hail door as you go out?"

She turned from him and took up a book from the table at her elbow.
Gilmore moved toward the door, but paused irresolutely. His first
feeling of furious rage was now tempered by a sense of coming loss. This
was to be the end; he was never to see her again! He swung about on his
heel. She was already turning the leaves of her book, apparently
oblivious of his presence.

"Am I to believe you--" he faltered.

She looked up and her eyes met his. There was nothing in her glance to
indicate that she comprehended the depth of his suffering.

"Yes," she said, with a drawing in of her full lips.

"When I leave you--if you really mean that--it will be to leave Mount
Hope!" said he appealingly.

The savage vigor that was normally his had deserted him, his very pride
was gone; a sudden mistrust of himself was humbling him; he felt
wretchedly out of place; he was even dimly conscious of his own baseness
while he was for the moment blinded to the cruelty of her conduct. Under
his breath he cursed himself. By his too great haste, by a too great
frankness he had fooled away his chances with her.

"That is more than I dared hope," Evelyn rejoined composedly.

"If I've offended you--" began Gilmore.

"Your presence offends me," she interrupted and looked past him to the
door.

"You don't mean what you say--Evelyn--" he said earnestly.

"My cook might have been flattered by your proposal; but why you should
have thought I would be, is utterly incomprehensible."

Gilmore's face became livid on the instant. A storm of abuse rushed to
his lips but he held himself in check. Then without a word or a glance
he passed from the room.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

THE HOUSE OF CARDS

The long day had been devoted to the choosing of the twelve men who
should say whether John North was innocent or guilty, but at last court
adjourned and Marshall Langham, pushing through the crowd tha