d in the air and the wild fear beating
in her heart.

CHAPTER IX

A DESPERATE GAME

Very slowly the black night grayed down into a wan, spectral
morning, and slowly the gray morning paled into a dim
mother-of-pearl dawn. And then suddenly the mother-of-pearliness
brightened into a shimmering opal, and the ray of pale gold light
slanted through the barred window and the bright face of new day
peeped over the sill, staring out of countenance the lurking shadows
of the night.

And then Arlee's eyes closed, and the heart which had been beating
like a frightened rabbit's at every sound and shadow steadied into a
rhythm as regular as a clock. She slept like a tired baby; while the
light grew brighter and higher, and reached in over the shining
dressing table, over the white piano, to rest upon the oblivious
face upon the couch and to play with the bright, tangled hair.

The first knocking upon the door did not disturb that sleep, and it
was a long time before the knock was again sounded. Then Arlee heard
and sprang to her feet in a lightning rush of consciousness. It was
Mariayah again, and the water jars which already looked familiar to
her, and after the water jars appeared more roses and with the roses
a letter.

Those roses came, the letter explained, to droop their heads before
her loveliness, which put theirs to shame. They would greet her as
humbler sisters greet a fairer. For they were roses of a day, but
she was the Rose of Life. The capitals were Kerissen's own. And then
abruptly the letter demanded:

Did I frighten you last night? Is it so strange to you
that you have magic to make a man forget all the barriers
of your convention? Do you not know you have an
enchantment which distills in the blood and changes it to
wine? You are the Rose of Life, the Rose of Desire, and
no man can look upon you without longing. But you must
not be angry at me for that, for I am your slave, and
would strew roses always to soften the world for your
little feet.... Fortune has made you my guest. Will you
not smile upon me while Fortune smiles? Luncheon will be
in the garden, for it is cool and fresh today.

The mask was slipping. Only a flimsy veil of sentiment now over his
rash will. Only a light pretense of her freedom, of his courtesy. He
was beginning to declare himself....

But she must not let him suspect that she knew. She must _not_.

Her