d the upper hand. "Where did you come from to here?"

"Paris."

"You did n't go on to England at all?"

"No."

"Then you did n't get back to your schedule. If you had done that, you
would n't have had any time left to--to think about other things."

"I did n't get beyond the Normandie," he answered. "My schedule
stopped short right there."

He was still standing before her. Apparently he intended to remain.
So she rose and crossed to another chair. He followed.

"You should have gone on," she insisted.

"I had my old room--next to yours," he said.

She must trouble him still more. There was no other way.

"That was rather sentimental of you, Monte, was n't it?" she asked
lightly.

"I went there as a man goes home," he answered softly.

Her lips became suddenly dumb.

"Then I had a long letter from Peter; the first one."

"He has written you before?"

"He wrote me that he loved you and was going to marry you. That was
before he learned the truth."

"About you?"

"And about you. When he wrote again, he said you had told him
everything."

So she had; more, far more than she should. What of that had he told
Monte? The question left her faint again.

"How did it happen?" he asked.

"I--I don't know," she faltered. "He guessed a little, and then I had
to tell him the rest."

Monte's mouth hardened.

"That should n't have been left for you to do. I should have told him
myself."

"Now that it's all over--can't we forget it, Monte, with all the rest?"

He bent a little toward her.

"Have you forgotten all the rest?" he demanded.

"At least, I 'm trying," she gasped.

"I wonder if you have found it as hard as I even to try?"

Steady--she must hold herself steady. His words were afire. With her
eyes on the ground, she felt his eyes searching her face.

"Whether it is hard or not makes no difference," she answered.

"It's just that which makes all the difference in the world," he
contradicted. "I wanted to be honest with myself and with you. So I
went away, willing to forget if that were the honest way. But, from
the moment I took the train here at Nice, I've done nothing but
remember. I've remembered every single minute of the time since I met
you in Paris. The present has been made up of nothing but the past.
Passing hours were nothing but echoes of past hours.

"I've remembered everything--even things away back that I thought I had
forgotten. I dug up even those glimp