thos. She looked young,
very young; yet there was also upon her features the stamp of
experience, the experience of suffering. She did not notice
the two by the fire, but went to the piano at the far end of the
room and stood gazing out into the lovely twilight of the garden.

Freddie, who saw only the costume, said in an undertone to
Clelie, "What sort of freak is this?"

Said Madame Deliere: "An uncle of mine lost his wife. They
were young and he loved her to distraction. Between her death
and the funeral he scandalized everybody by talking
incessantly of the most trivial details--the cards, the
mourning, the flowers, his own clothes. But the night of the
funeral he killed himself."

Palmer winced as if Clelie had struck him. Then an expression
of terror, of fear, came into his eyes. "You don't think
she'd do that?" he muttered hoarsely.

"Certainly not," replied the young Frenchwoman. "I was simply
trying to explain her. She dressed because she was
unconscious of what she was doing. Real sorrow doesn't think
about appearances." Then with quick tact she added: "Why
should she kill herself? Monsieur Brent is getting well.
Also, while she's a devoted friend of his, she doesn't love
him, but you."

"I'm all upset," said Palmer, in confused apology.

He gazed fixedly at Susan--a straight, slim figure with the
carriage and the poise of head that indicate self-confidence
and pride. As he gazed Madame Clelie watched him with
fascinated eyes. It was both thrilling and terrifying to see
such love as he was revealing--a love more dangerous than
hate. Palmer noted that he was observed, abruptly turned to
face the fire.

A servant opened the doors into the dining-room, Madame
Deliere rose. "Come, Susan," said she.

Susan looked at her with unseeing eyes.

"Dinner is served."

"I do not care for dinner," said Susan, seating herself at the piano.

"Oh, but you----"

"Let her alone," said Freddie, curtly. "You and I will go in."

Susan, alone, dropped listless hands into her lap. How long
she sat there motionless and with mind a blank she did not
know. She was aroused by a sound in the hall--in the
direction of the outer door of their apartment. She started
up, instantly all alive and alert, and glided swiftly in the
direction of the sound. A servant met her at the threshold.
He had a cablegram on a tray.

"For Mr. Palmer," said he.

But she, not hearing, took the envelope and tore it o