erves, her hands clenched and her voice
shook slightly.

"Let me remind you that to begin anywhere you've got to begin somewhere."
And then as she continued silent, he burst out: "For God's sake, say it!"

"Is--is--it possible that the suspicion has never crossed your mind that
I am Mary Ogden?"

"Wh-a-at!"

"Mary Ogden, who married Count Zattiany thirty-four years ago. I was
twenty-four at the time. You may do your own arithmetic."

But Clavering made no answer. His cigarette was burning a hole in the
carpet. He mechanically set his foot on it, but his faculties felt
suspended, his body immersed in ice-water. And yet something in his
unconscious rose and laughed . . . and tossed up a key . . . if he had
not fallen in love with her he would have found that key long since. His
news sense rarely failed him.

"I've told a good many lies, I'm afraid," she went on, and her voice was
even and cool. The worst was over. "You'll have to forgive me that at
least. I dislike downright lying, if only because concessions are
foreign to my nature, and I quibbled when it was possible; but when
cornered there was no other way out. I had no intention of being forced
to tell you or any one the truth until I chose to tell it."

"Well, you had your little comedy!"

"It did amuse me for a time, but I think I explained all that in my
letter. I also explained why I came to America, and that if I had not
met you I should probably have come and gone and no one but Judge Trent
been the wiser. I had prepared him by letter, and to him, I suppose, it
has been a huge comedy--with no tragic sequel. Be sure that I never
entertained the thought that I could ever love any man again. But I have
made up my mind to disenchant you as far as possible, not only for your
sake but my own. I wish you to know exactly whom you have fallen in love
with."

"You grow more interesting every moment," said Clavering politely, "and I
have never been one-half as interested in my life."

"Perhaps you have heard--Mrs. Oglethorpe, I should think, would be very
much disposed to talk about old times--that I was a great belle in New
York--belles were fashionable in those days of more marked individuality.
I suppose no girl ever had more proposals. Naturally I grew to
understand my power over men perfectly. I had that white and regular
beauty combined with animation and great sex-magnetism which always
convinces men that under the snow volcanic fires