wavered.

"But, Sara, surely--surely you can't still have any thought of marrying
Garth Trent?" There was a hint of something like terror in her voice.

"No," Sara responded wearily. "No, I shall never marry--Garth Trent."

"Then why won't you--why can't you--"

"Marry Tim?"--quietly. "Because, although I shall never marry Garth now,
I haven't stopped loving him."

"Do you mean that you can still care for him--now that you know what
kind of man he is?"

"Oh! Good Heavens, Elisabeth!"--the irritation born of frayed nerves
hardened Sara's voice so that it was almost unrecognizable--"you can't
turn love on and off as you would a tap! I shall never marry _anybody_
now. Tim understands that, and--you must understand it, too."

There was no mistaking her passionate sincerity. The truth--that Sara
would never, as long as she lived, put another in the place Garth Trent
had held--seemed borne in upon Elisabeth that moment.

With a strangled cry she sank back into her chair, and her eyes, fixed
on Sara's small, stern-set face, held a strange, beaten look. As she sat
there, her hands gripping the chair-arms, there was something about her
whole attitude that suggested defeat.

"So it's all been useless--quite useless!" she muttered in a queer,
whispering voice.

She was not looking at Sara now. Her vision was turned inward, and she
seemed to be utterly oblivious of the other's presence. "Useless!" she
repeated, still in that strange, whispering tone.

"What has been useless?" asked Sara curiously.

Elisabeth started, and stared at her for a moment in a vacant fashion.
Then, all at once, her mind seemed to come back to the present, and
simultaneously the familiar watchful look sprang into her eyes. Sara was
oddly conscious of being reminded of a sentry who has momentarily
slept at his post, and then, awakening suddenly, feverishly resumed his
vigilance.

"What was I saying?" Elisabeth brushed her hand distressfully across her
forehead.

"You said that it had all been useless," repeated Sara. "What did you
mean?"

Elisabeth paused a moment before replying.

"I meant that all my hopes were useless," she explained at last. "The
hopes I had that some day you would be Tim's wife."

"Yes, they're quite useless--if that is what you meant," replied Sara.
But there was a perplexed expression in her eyes. She had a feeling
that Elisabeth was not being quite frank with her--that that whispered
confession of failure signi