s too hot to bear. Her heart burned; her hands
clenched; she could have beaten upon those walls with her helpless
fists and screamed at the top of her unavailing lungs. It was a fury
of despair that seized her, a fury that she fought back with every
breath of sanity within her. Then suddenly the air was black. The
room seemed to swim before her eyes and the ground came swaying
dizzily up to meet her, and receive her spent unconsciousness.

* * * * *

Water had been brought; she woke to find herself upon the couch, the
old woman woodenly sopping her head and hands. She smiled weakly
into that strange dark face; it was as unchanged as if it had been
carved from bronze. The business of reviving finished, the old woman
left her a handkerchief damp with a keen scent and went about the
work of unpacking a hamper that she brought in.

Dully, Arlee saw the preparations for a meal advancing. She shook
her head at it; a cup of tea was all that she could touch. A
lethargy had seized her; even the anger of revolt was gone. She
closed her eyes languidly, grateful when the old woman went away,
grateful when the darkness deepened. When it was quite night, she
thought, she would break open the wooden screen and fling herself
through the wood into the sands. She lay there passively waiting;
her heavy eyes closed, and she slept.

CHAPTER XVII

AT BAY

Voices sounded below; footsteps hurried; a door slammed. Then feet
upon the stairs, and a hand at the door. Arlee struggled to her feet
in sudden terror; the candle was out and the room was in darkness.
Outside a gale was blowing. The door opened, but the figure which
hurried in was not the one her fright anticipated.

It was the old woman again, bustling with haste. She brought more
candles for the table, and then a tray with a bottle and glasses and
dishes covered with napkins. Then she bestowed her attention to
Arlee, bringing her a mirror and a comb from the hamper she had left
upon the floor, and a cloth thick with powder. Then Arlee was sure.

She stood rigid a moment, listening to that low buzz of voices from
below, then desperately she shook out her tangled hair and combed it
back from her hot face. It was still damp from the water that had
been dashed upon her, and as she knotted it swiftly, soft strands of
it broke away and hung in wet, childish tendrils. She brushed some
powder on her face; she bit her bloodless lips, and stared in