g had happened, when it seemed
impossible even to drag herself to the top of the winding flight of
stairs. She held her head down; there was a peculiar clicking in her
throat, which she could not master; she felt at every step as if she
would have to burst out crying.

At the glass of the door, and at the wizened old face that appeared
behind it, she looked with unseeing eyes; and she followed Maurice
mechanically along the passage to a door at the end.

In his agitation the young man forgot to knock; and as they entered, a
figure sprang up from the sofa-corner, and made a few impulsive steps
towards them.

Maurice went over to Louise and took her hand.

"I've brought her," he said in a low tone, and with a kind of appeal in
voice and eyes, which he was not himself aware of. Louise answered the
look, and went on looking at him, as if she were fearful of letting her
eyes stray. Both turned at an exclamation from Ephie. She was still
standing where Maurice had left her, close beside the door; but her
face was flaming, and her right hand fumbled with the doorhandle.

"Ephie!" said Maurice warningly. He was afraid she would turn the
handle, and, going over to her, took her by the arm.

"Say, Maurice, I'm going home," she said under her breath. "I can't
stop here. Oh, why did you bring me?"

"Ssh!--be a good girl, Ephie," he replied as though speaking to a
child. "Come with me."

An inborn politeness struggled with Ephie's dread. "I can't. I don't
know her name," she whispered. But she let him draw her forward to
where Louise was standing; and she held out her hand.

"Miss--?" she said in a small voice, and waited for the name to be
filled in.

Louise had watched them whispering, with a stony fare, but, at Ephie's
gesture, life came into it. Her eyes opened wide; and drawing back from
the girl's outstretched hand, yet without seeming to see it, she turned
with a hasty movement, and went over to the window, where she stood
with her back to them.

This was the last straw; Ephie dropped on a chair, and hiding her face
in her hands, burst into the tears she had hitherto restrained. Her
previous trouble was increased a hundredfold. For she had recognised
Louise at once; she felt that she was in a trap; and the person who had
entrapped her was Maurice. Holding a tiny lace handkerchief to her
eyes, she sobbed as though her heart would break.

"Don't cry, dear, don't cry," said the young man. "It's all right." But
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