ing with closed eye, his face
white and drawn with pain.

Her fright, and above all her pretty solicitude even after he had
assuaged her fears by explaining that he occasionally suffered from an
old strain which he had sustained a few years before while working in
the lumber camps, tried his composure to the utmost.

For days, the memory of the look in her eyes as she bent over him
remained in his mind. But he was careful not to betray himself again.

It was to prevent any repetition that he first resorted to working over
something while she was reading. While doubly occupied with listening
and working with his hands, he found that his mind was less apt to go
off on a tangent and indulge in painful and profitless speculations.

For, after all, as she had said, how could he prevent her going if her
heart was set on it? That she had given no outward sign of being unhappy
or discontented argued nothing. She was far too shrewd to spend her
strength in unavailing effort. Pride and ordinary prudence would counsel
waiting for a more favorable opportunity than had yet been afforded her.
She would not soon forget the lesson of the night he had beaten down her
opposition and dragged her pride in the dust.

And would she ever forgive it? That was a question that he asked himself
almost daily without finding any answer. There was nothing in her manner
to show that she harbored resentment or that she was brooding over plans
for escaping from the bondage of her life. But women, in his experience,
were deep, even cunning. Once given a strong purpose, women like Nora,
pursued it to the end. Women of this type were not easily diverted by
side issues as men so often were.

For weeks he lived in daily apprehension of Ed's arrival. There was no
one else she could turn to, and evoking his aid did not necessarily
argue that she must submit again to Gertie's grudging hospitality. Ed
might easily, unknown to his masterful better-half, furnish the funds to
return to England. She had not written him that he knew of. As a matter
of fact, she had not, but she might have given the letter to Sid Sharp
to post on one of his not infrequent trips into Prentice. It would only
have been by chance that Sid would speak of so trifling a matter. He was
much too proud to question him.

But as time went on and no Ed appeared, he began, if not exactly to hope
that, after all she was finding the life not unbearable, at least her
leaving was a thing of the