n door at the further end of the hall.

She had no desire at all to call up her father at Grogan's and inform
him of what had occurred. The mere thought of surreptitious listening
in, of eavesdropping, of informing, reddened her face. Also, she had
long since lost confidence in the somewhat battered but jaunty man who
had always neglected her, although never otherwise unkind, even when
intoxicated.

No, she would neither listen in nor inform on anybody at the behest of
a father for whom, alas, she had no respect, merely those shreds of
conventional feeling which might once have been filial affection, but
had become merely an habitual solicitude.

No, her character, her nature refused such obedience. If there was
trouble between the owner of the unusually sweet voice and Mr. Barres,
it was their affair, not hers, not her father's.

This settled in her mind, she opened another book and turned the pages
slowly until she came to the lesson to be learned.

It was hard to concentrate; her thoughts were straying, now, to
Barres.

And, as she leaned there, musing above her dingy school book, through
the grilled door at the further end of the hall stepped a young girl
in a light summer gown--a beautiful girl, lithe, graceful, exquisitely
groomed--who came swiftly up to the desk, a trifle pale and
breathless:

"Mr. Barres? He lives here?"

"Yes."

"Please announce Miss Dunois."

Dulcie flushed deeply under the shock:

"Mr.--Mr. Barres is still out----"

"Oh. Was it you I talked to over the telephone?" asked Thessalie
Dunois.

"Yes."

"Mr. Barres has not returned?"

"No."

Thessalie bit her lip, hesitated, turned to go. And at the same
instant Dulcie saw the one-eyed man at the street door, peering
through the iron grille.

Thessalie saw him, too, stiffened to marble, stood staring straight at
him.

He turned and went away up the street. But Dulcie, to whom the
incident signified nothing in particular except the impudence of a
one-eyed man, was not prepared for the face which Thessalie Dunois
turned toward her. Not a vestige of colour remained in it, and her
dark eyes seemed feverish and too large.

"You need not give Mr. Barres any message from me," she said in an
altered voice, which sounded strained and unsteady. "Please do not
even say that I came or mention my name.... May I ask it of you?"

Dulcie, very silent in her surprise, made no reply.

"Please may I ask it of you?" whispered Thessalie. "