th interest. Susie led him to
talk of himself, and he spoke willingly enough of his daily round. He was
earning a good deal of money, and his professional reputation was making
steady progress. He worked hard. Besides his duties at the two hospitals
with which he was now connected, his teaching, and his private practice,
he had read of late one or two papers before scientific bodies, and was
editing a large work on surgery.

'How on earth can you find time to do so much?' asked Susie.

'I can do with less sleep than I used,' he answered. 'It almost doubles
my working-day.'

He stopped abruptly and looked down. His remark had given accidentally
some hint at the inner life which he was striving to conceal. Susie knew
that her suspicion was well-founded. She thought of the long hours he
lay awake, trying in vain to drive from his mind the agony that tortured
him, and the short intervals of troubled sleep. She knew that he delayed
as long as possible the fatal moment of going to bed, and welcomed the
first light of day, which gave him an excuse for getting up. And because
he knew that he had divulged the truth he was embarrassed. They sat
in awkward silence. To Susie, the tragic figure in front of her was
singularly impressive amid that lighthearted throng: all about them happy
persons were enjoying the good things of life, talking, laughing, and
making merry. She wondered what refinement of self-torture had driven him
to choose that place to come to. He must hate it.

When they finished luncheon, Susie took her courage in both hands.

'Won't you come back to my rooms for half an hour? We can't talk here.'

He made an instinctive motion of withdrawal, as though he sought to
escape. He did not answer immediately, and she insisted.

'You have nothing to do for an hour, and there are many things I want to
speak to you about'

'The only way to be strong is never to surrender to one's weakness,' he
said, almost in a whisper, as though ashamed to talk so intimately.

'Then you won't come?'

'No.'

It was not necessary to specify the matter which it was proposed to
discuss. Arthur knew perfectly that Susie wished to talk of Margaret, and
he was too straightforward to pretend otherwise. Susie paused for one
moment.

'I was never able to give Margaret your message. She did not write to
me.'

A certain wildness came into his eyes, as if the effort he made was
almost too much for him.

'I saw her in Monte Carlo,' sai