, the Bland
woman fell passionately in love with him. His conscience was never
troubled about the beginning of that affair. She launched herself. It
took no great perspicuity on his part to see that. And the thing which
evidently held her in check was the newness, the strangeness, and for
the moment the all-satisfying fact of his respect for her. Duane exerted
himself to please, to amuse, to interest, to fascinate her, and always
with deference. That was his strong point, and it had made his part
easy so far. He believed he could carry the whole scheme through without
involving himself any deeper.

He was playing at a game of love--playing with life and deaths Sometimes
he trembled, not that he feared Bland or Alloway or any other man, but
at the deeps of life he had come to see into. He was carried out of his
old mood. Not once since this daring motive had stirred him had he
been haunted by the phantom of Bain beside his bed. Rather had he been
haunted by Jennie's sad face, her wistful smile, her eyes. He never was
able to speak a word to her. What little communication he had with her
was through Euchre, who carried short messages. But he caught glimpses
of her every time he went to the Bland house. She contrived somehow to
pass door or window, to give him a look when chance afforded. And Duane
discovered with surprise that these moments were more thrilling to
him than any with Mrs. Bland. Often Duane knew Jennie was sitting just
inside the window, and then he felt inspired in his talk, and it was
all made for her. So at least she came to know him while as yet she was
almost a stranger. Jennie had been instructed by Euchre to listen, to
understand that this was Duane's only chance to help keep her mind from
constant worry, to gather the import of every word which had a double
meaning.

Euchre said that the girl had begun to wither under the strain, to burn
up with intense hope which had flamed within her. But all the difference
Duane could see was a paler face and darker, more wonderful eyes. The
eyes seemed to be entreating him to hurry, that time was flying, that
soon it might be too late. Then there was another meaning in them, a
light, a strange fire wholly inexplicable to Duane. It was only a flash
gone in an instant. But he remembered it because he had never seen it in
any other woman's eyes. And all through those waiting days he knew that
Jennie's face, and especially the warm, fleeting glance she gave him,
wa