or his own appetite had deserted him.

He had thrown the paper down, with no thought of reading it, and paused
to hang up his coat and hat. Upon his return, he was confronted by a
black headline in letters two inches deep, and flinging the paper open
with a sharp crackle, he stood rigid while the meaning of it burst upon
him.

PRETTY MAID MARRIES RICH SWELL!

ROMANTIC RUNAWAY MATCH. YOUNG
HOLLISTER PYLE OF WARWICK MARRIES THE
GIRL THAT FORMERLY LIVED IN HIS HOUSE.
CUPID NOT TO BE BAFFLED BY THE DIFFERENCE
IN SOCIAL POSITION. PARENTS OF
BRIDEGROOM TELEGRAPH THEIR FORGIVENESS.

Emmet slowly sank into his chair, his staring eyes fixed on the page
while he rapidly ran through the startling story--not a seven days'
wonder, indeed, in these times of universal publicity, but the gossip
of a few hours, until the whirling sheets of the next issue should
fling some other story of folly or crime into the hands of its gaping
readers.

But Emmet was not comforted by a realisation of the transitory nature
of the sensation. He heard the newsboys in the street without, crying
it hoarsely, and almost wondered why his own name was not coupled with
the others, to be bruited about the sidewalks, proclaiming his guilt.
In the first moments, his sensations were those of fear and horror.
The bottom had dropped out of his world, leaving him suspended over an
abyss. He experienced no relief that this act of Lena's freed his own
hands. He was free in one sense, but she had fastened a crime upon him
forever by taking herself from his path.

What he had intended to do, he did not know. Some vague idea of
providing for her had lain dormant in his mind. He had even gone to
the bishop's with a subconscious disposition to give Felicity up; but
her father's scorn had aroused his perversity, and had resulted in a
declaration of obstinacy that was unpremeditated.

Now he knew that he had loved Lena, had intended to stand by her, even
to marry her; and he was struck by her pitiful humility. Evidently it
had not occurred to her mind that he might get a divorce. Too late he
wished he had been frank with her and had asked her to wait. In
reality, he was no sensualist, and Lena's frailty had not made him a
cynic; on the contrary, he regarded it as a proof of her love alone.
In his agony, he did not judge her; he judged only himself. He had
taught her duplicity, but he was aghast at her skill in practising the
lesson she