ination she desisted.

There followed a silence during which her grey eyes met his black ones
steadily, fearlessly, resolutely. Then in a whisper Piers spoke, his lips
still close to hers. "Tell me what you were praying for, sweetheart!"

She smiled a little. "No, dear, not now! It's nothing that's in your
power to give me. Shall we sit on the window-seat and talk?"

But Piers was loath to let her go from his arms. He knelt beside her as
she sat, still holding her.

She put her arm round his neck. "Do you remember your Star of Hope?" she
asked him softly.

"I remember," said Piers, but he did not turn his eyes to the night sky;
they still dwelt upon her.

Avery's face was toward the window. The drapery fell loosely away from
her throat. He stooped forward suddenly and pressed his hot lips upon her
soft white flesh.

A little tremor went through her at his touch; she kept her face
turned from him.

"Have you really got all you want?" she asked after a moment. "Is there
nothing at all left to hope for?"

"Didn't we drink to the future only to-night?" he said.

His arms were drawing her, but still she kept her face turned away. "Did
you mean anything by that?" she asked. "Were you--were you thinking of
anything special?"

He did not at once answer her. He waited till with an odd reluctance she
turned her face towards him. Then, "I was thinking of you," he said.

Her heart gave a quick throb. "Of me?" she questioned below her breath.

"Of you," he said again. "For myself, I have got all I can ever hope for.
But you--you would be awfully happy, wouldn't you, if--"

"If--" murmured Avery.

He stooped again to kiss her white bosom. "And it would be a bond between
us," he said, as if continuing some remark he had not uttered.

She turned more fully to him. "Do we need that?" she said.

"We might--some day," he answered, in a tone that somehow made it
impossible for her to protest. "Anyhow, my darling, I knew,--I guessed.
And I'm awfully glad--for your sake."

She bent towards him. "Not for your own?" she whispered pleadingly.

He laid his head suddenly down upon her knees with a sound that was
almost a groan.

"Piers!" she said in distress.

He was silent for a space, then slowly raised himself. She had a sense
of shock at sight of his face. It looked haggard and grey, as if a
withering hand had touched him and shorn away his youth.

"Avery,--oh, Avery," he said, "I wish I were a better man!"

It wa