nk. Only I know you must not touch me;
and--and I'm not a child any more!"

Then tears came, a wild, remorseful flood. The girl swayed upon the
couch, torn by the emotions that lashed her cruelly. Thornly stood
apart. Something undefinable held him to his place. He recalled the
first day he had met this strange girl upon the Hills and her tears
then; but these were different. In a subtle, unspeakable way he realized
that something startling had brought about this changed condition from
yesterday's Eden-like life.

"I wish you could tell me what is the matter," he said pityingly and
quietly. He did not move toward her, but his tone, with its sympathetic
reserve, did the one thing he longed to do; it drew the girl's trust and
confidence. The storm of sobs lessened. The hidden face was raised and
the burden of fear and distress lifted slowly.

"They--have been here!" The words came upon the crest of the last sob.

"They--who?" Thornly's eyes contracted.

"Mr. Devant and the one he calls Katharine."

"Great heavens! And you let them in?"

"They found the key and came in." Thornly muttered something inaudibly.
"They wanted to see your pictures; they saw everything, and me!" Again
the misery spread over the vivid face. Thornly was unable to take his
eyes from that pitiful gaze, but for a moment his own position in this
play held part.

"What did they say?" he asked at length.

"Mr. Devant said nothing! I cannot remember what she said--but whatever
it was, it made me know that she thinks me--oh! what can I
say?--something too awful to bear! And you, you knew what women like her
might think! That is why you made me promise not to tell; that is why
you kept the door locked! You knew how the people like her would scorn
me! and yet you would not save me! Oh! I know it was because of your
pictures! You would let folks like her think what they wanted to, so
long as you got what you wanted!" The brief confidence in him was gone.

There was a power in this fury that shook Thornly as he listened. The
blazing face of outraged womanhood confronted him, and the accusation
brought truth and torment with it.

"Get what I wanted?" he groped blindly in his soul for an honest answer
as to what he had wanted.

"Yes. What you wanted! You wanted my face, because it is beautiful;
because I was like this place, the Hills and dunes! You thought me like
them, just a thing to put upon your canvas to make you rich and famous!
But I am a