ht her breath and shrank. Looking at him as he said that,
calmly and confidently, she, for the first time, was in love--and was
afraid. Back to her came Selma's warnings: "One may not trifle with
love. A woman conquers only by surrender."

"But, as I said to you a while ago," he went on, "I don't want you--or
any woman. I've no time for marriage--no time for a flirtation. And
though you tempt me strongly, I like you too well to--to treat you as
you invite."

Jane sat motionless, stunned by the sudden turning of the tables.

She who had come to conquer--to amuse herself, to evoke a strong,
hopeless passion that would give her a delightful sense of warmth as
she stood safely by its bright flames--she had been conquered.

She belonged to this man; all he had to do was to claim her.

In a low voice, sweet and sincere beyond any that had ever come from
her lips before, she said:

"Anything, Victor--anything--but don't send me away."

And he, seeing and hearing, lost his boasted self-control. "Go--go," he
cried harshly. "If you don't go----" He came round the table, seizing
her as she rose, kissed her upon the lips, upon the eyes. "You are
lovely--lovely!" he murmured. "And I who can't have flowers on my table
or in sight when I've got anything serious to do--I love your perfume
and your color and the wonderful softness of you----"

He pushed her away. "Now--will you go?" he cried.

His eyes were flashing. And she was trembling from head to foot.

She was gazing at him with a fascinated expression. "I understand what
you meant when you warned me to go," she said. "I didn't believe it,
but it was so."

"Go--I tell you!" he ordered.

"It's too late," said she. "You can't send me away now--for you have
kissed me. If I'm in your power, you're in my power, too."

Moved by the same impulse both looked up the arbor toward the rear door
of the house. There stood Selma Gordon, regarding them with an
expression of anger as wild as the blood of the steppes that flowed in
her veins. Victor, with what composure he could master, put out his
hand in farewell to Jane. He had been too absorbed in the emotions
raging between him and her to note Selma's expression. But Jane, the
woman, had seen. As she shook hands with Victor, she said neither high
nor low:

"Selma knows that I care. I told her the night of the riot."

"Good-by," said Victor in a tone she thought it wise not to dispute.

"I'll be in the w