hed. "It's too
good for you. Do you know what we men call such creatures as you? All
this time you have waited--waited, and the moment your poor sister is
in her grave, almost before the blood in her veins is cold, you seize
your opportunity to fulfil your mad desire. Taking advantage of
Charlie's wretchedness and trouble, you force yourself upon him. You
force a position upon him from which there is no escape. The world
will accept the position at the value you intend, and he is powerless
to do anything but accept it too. You meant to have him, and I suppose
he is yours by now. And all this time I have wasted an honest love on
you--you----"

And she had answered him, calmly and deliberately, before he could
utter the filthy epithet she knew he intended.

"Please keep your voice down, or--or you'll wake little Joan."

Even now she could never quite understand her own attitude at the
moment. Something inside her was urging her to fly at his throat and
tear the foul words from it. Yet there was something gripping her,
something compelling her to a calmness she was powerless to resist.

Then, as swiftly as he had blazed into fury, had come a miraculous
change in the man. Perhaps it was the effect of her calm, perhaps it
was something in the man himself. Anyway the madness abruptly died out
of his eyes and left him shaking. He strove to speak, but no words
came. He passed his hand across his forehead as though to remove
something that was clouding his brain. He turned from her fixed stare
as though he could no longer support it. He moved across the room. He
hesitated. He turned to her. She did not see the movement, for her
back was now turned, but somehow she felt it.

Then she heard his footsteps again, and, finally, the rattle of the
door handle as he clutched it. After that came his voice. All the
anger, the jealousy, had gone out of it. It was low, gentle,
imploring. But she did not move.

"Mercy, Mercy! For--forgive me. I----"

"Never!"

Oh, the scorn, the hatred she had flung into the word!

The next she remembered was that he passed swiftly and silently from
the room. Then, then at last her woman's weakness, a weakness she now
so cordially despised, overcame her, and she fell into a chair and
wept.

But her weakness was short-lived. Her spirit rose in rebellion, and
her tears ceased to flow as the cruel iron entered her soul. She
pondered long and deeply, and presently she went on with her
preparations