ays me
under an insensate obligation to avoid even the appearance of murder.
I have never pulled a trigger or lifted my hand on a man, even in
self-defence."

The suddenly tightened grip of her hand checked him.

"They are making a move," she murmured.

"Can they be thinking of coming here?" Heyst wondered anxiously.

"No, they aren't coming this way," she said; and there was another
pause. "They are going back to their house," she reported finally.

After watching them a little longer, she let go Heyst's hand and moved
away from the screen. He followed her into the room.

"You have seen them now," he began. "Think what it was to me to see them
land in the dusk, fantasms from the sea--apparitions, chimeras! And they
persist. That's the worst of it--they persist. They have no right to
be--but they are. They ought to have aroused my fury. But I have
refined everything away by this time--anger, indignation, scorn itself.
Nothing's left but disgust. Since you have told me of that abominable
calumny, it has become immense--it extends even to myself." He looked up
at her.

"But luckily I have you. And if only Wang had not carried off that
miserable revolver--yes, Lena, here we are, we two!"

She put both her hands on his shoulders and looked straight into his
eyes. He returned her penetrating gaze. It baffled him. He could not
pierce the grey veil of her eyes; but the sadness of her voice thrilled
him profoundly.

"You are not reproaching me?" she asked slowly.

"Reproach? What a word between us! It could only be myself--but the
mention of Wang has given me an idea. I have been, not exactly cringing,
not exactly lying, but still dissembling. You have been hiding
yourself, to please me, but still you have been hiding. All this is very
dignified. Why shouldn't we try begging now? A noble art? Yes. Lena,
we must go out together. I couldn't think of leaving you alone, and
I must--yes, I must speak to Wang. We shall go and seek that man, who
knows what he wants and how to secure what he wants. We will go at
once!"

"Wait till I put my hair up," she agreed instantly, and vanished behind
the curtain.

When the curtain had fallen behind her, she turned her head back with
an expression of infinite and tender concern for him--for him whom she
could never hope to understand, and whom she was afraid she could never
satisfy, as if her passion were of a hopelessly lower quality, unable
to appease some exalted and delicate d