he law cannot
reach. Knowing which, the woman may have been guilty of it before and,
the opportunity occurring, was guilty again--salving her conscience,
if she had a conscience, with the convenient, "Mon Dieu, il faut
vivre!"

Anyway, at the offer she did not so much as blink. She smiled very
receptively and declared that she would be charmed.

When, therefore, two days later Marie re-entered that shabby back
parlor she found Loftus there. Generally the girl and the ex-first
lady got to work at once, sometimes with the brindisi from "Lucrezia
Borgia," sometimes with arias from "Aida." Save themselves no one was
ever present.

Now at the unexpected spectacle of the man the cream of the girl's
delicate skin suffused. It was as though there were claret in it.
She had not an idea what to do and, before she could decide,
ceremoniously, with due regard for the pomps of etiquette, Loftus
had been introduced.

If abrupt, the introduction was at least conventional, and Marie, who
had not the remotest suspicion that it was all bought and paid for and
who, if consciously startled, subconsciously was pleased, attributing
the whole thing to accident and, flushing still, smiled and sat down.

"I think," said Loftus, "that I have had the pleasure of seeing you
before."

At this inanity Marie looked first at him, then at the carpet. She
did not know at all what he was saying. But in his voice was a
deference, in his manner a sorcery and in his bearing and appearance
something that went to her head. It was all very novel and delightful,
and she flushed again.

"Yes," Loftus resumed, "and when I did see you I committed a very
grave offense. Can you forgive me?"

For countenance sake the girl turned to Mme. Machin. But the ex-first
lady, pretexting a pretext, had gone.

"Can you?" Loftus requested. "Can you forgive?"

Forgive indeed! Had she not so forgiven that she had almost wished a
renewal of that grave offense? She did not answer. It was her face
that spoke for her. But the silence Loftus affected to misconstrue.

"Couldn't you try?"

"Yes." The monosyllable fell from her softly, almost inaudibly. Yet
for his purpose it sufficed.

"Thank you. I hoped that you would. But will you let me tell you now
how I came to behave as I did?"

To this, timorously, with the slightest movement of her pretty head,
the girl assented.

"Because I could not help myself. Because at the first sight of you I
knew that I loved you. B