feet of her champion.

"Wherefore dost thou retreat, Io?" Ta-user asked. "Art vanquished?"

"At one game, aye!" the girl replied vehemently.

Kenkenes laid his hand on her head and said to her very softly:

"If only our pride were spared, sweet Io, defeat were not so hard."

The girl lifted her face to him with some questioning in her eyes.

"Knowest thou aught of this game, in truth?" she asked.

He smiled and evaded. "I have not been fairly taught."

Ta-meri gathered up the stakes and Nechutes, collecting the dice, went
to find her a seat. But while he was gone, she wandered over to
Kenkenes and leaned on the back of his chair.

"Let me give thee a truth that seemeth to deny itself in the
expression," Io said, turning so that she faced the young artist.

"Say on," he replied, bending over her.

"The more indifferent the teacher in this game of love, the sooner you
learn," said Io. Kenkenes took the tiny hand extended toward him in
emphasis and kissed it.

"Sorry truth!" he said tenderly. As he leaned back in his chair he
became conscious of Ta-meri's presence and turned his head toward her.
Her face was so near to him that he felt the glow from her warm cheek.
His gaze met hers and, for a moment, dwelt.

All the attraction of her gorgeous habiliments, her warm assurance and
her inceptive tenderness detached themselves from the general fusion
and became distinct. Her beauty, her fervor, her audacity, were not
unusually pronounced on this occasion, but the spell for Kenkenes was
broken and the inner working's were open to him. Different indeed was
the picture that rose before his mind--a picture of a fair face,
wondrously and spiritually beautiful; of the quick blush and sweet
dignity and unapproachable womanhood. His eyes fell and for a moment
his lids were unsteady, but the color surged back into his cheeks and
his lips tightened.

He took Io's hands, which were clasped across his knee, and rising,
gave the chair to Ta-meri. He found a taboret for himself, and as he
put it down at her feet, he saw Nechutes fling himself into a chair and
scowl blackly at the nomarch's daughter. Kenkenes sighed and
interested himself in the babble that went on about him.

The first word he distinguished was the name of Har-hat, pronounced in
clear tones. Menes, who sat next to Kenkenes, put out his foot and
trod on the speaker's toes. The man was Siptah.

"Choke before thou utterest that name again," the c