e felt it."

Christina, now, had also risen. A dart of keenest pity, even admiration,
went through her, horridly painful. "I am so dreadfully sorry," she
murmured. "I had to tell you--since you asked me;--I didn't want you to
hurt Milly--and yourself--uselessly."

"I know. I perfectly understand," said Dick.

They walked in silence to Albert Gate, and there, as they paused in
farewell, Christina suddenly, seizing his arm and speaking in a hurried
whisper, said: "You have been splendid. I can't tell you how I feel it.
If I can ever--at any time--do anything----" It was the truth, yet the
falseness of such speech, from her to him, appalled her while she spoke.
Her voice trailed off. "Forgive me. Good-bye--" she said.

They grasped each other's hands and Dick, as she broke away, saw that
the tears were running down her face.

CHAPTER III

CHRISTINA

He was gone. She had triumphed. And only pain and horror, as if for the
innocent life she had taken, were about her. No joy, no triumph, in
having snatched Milly from degradation.

At the thought of Milly the fear that drove upon her was so intense that
it induced a curious lightness of head. She was uplifted and upheld
above her own fear. The unnatural buoyancy became almost a lightness of
heart. All was over. If she were a criminal she must profit by her crime
and shelter herself from suspicion. They would be happy--of course they
would be happy again--she and Milly. "Love begets love. Love begets
love." She heard herself muttering the words almost gaily, like an
incantation, as she walked down Sloane Street.

When she crossed the street and looked up at the house she saw that
Milly was standing at the drawing-room window looking down at her.
Something in Milly's attitude there, in her beautiful dress and in her
unsmiling gaze, suggested to Christina the thought of a captive princess
watching the approach of some evil enchantress. Milly--her prisoner--her
victim! Her darling Milly!--She beat away the black vision.

She went slowly upstairs and came slowly into the drawing-room. Milly
had turned from the window and, with the same hard, unsmiling gaze,
stood and watched her enter. Christina sank into a chair.

"Well," said Milly after a moment, and in a voice that Christina had
never heard from her, "he did not come, you see. I am up and
dressed--yes--you know that I intended to get up and dress as soon as
you were gone, I am sure--and I have been waiting h