ject which she wished to
discuss and dreaded the interview. The ethical side of the matter gave
him no concern; but the same lack of stamina which caused him to shrink
made it impossible for him to refuse.

"Where shall I meet you?" he hesitantly inquired, "at Sherry's as
usual?"

"No," she hastily objected. "That has become rather too usual." She
named a place in lower Fifth avenue which Fashion regards as
delightfully Bohemian and Bohemia considers alluringly fashionable. She
named an hour when the place would be empty enough for an undisturbed
rendezvous.

Now, as Paul Burton sat opposite Loraine Haswell at one of the small and
snowy tables, he sought to cloak his nervousness under a guise of
debonair ease and soon the woman was embarked upon the recital of her
grievances.

"Len has had an utterly intolerable fit of jealousy," she confided; then
fell silent while she nibbled at a melon. But her dark eyes were full of
beauty's appeal and injured distress. "It's reached a point, Paul--" her
voice became very soft, almost tearful--"where I'm afraid I must make a
decision: the sort of decision that it's very hard for a woman to make."

"Was he unkind to you?" Her companion sought to speak with indignation,
but a note sounded through his voice which punctured the assumption with
falsity. It was occurring to him that Len Haswell might be particularly
unkind to him.

She leaned far over the table and spoke guardedly.

"He has made me promise that I sha'n't see you again, except where we
meet by accident; that all our innocent little parties must end."

"And you promised?"

Slowly and reluctantly she nodded her head. "It was that or--" she
broke off.

"Or what?"

"Or a separation. He said I must choose definitely between you." Paul
Burton studied his plate in the silence of indecision, and she went on
rather haltingly. "When marriage reaches the ultimatum stage, it doesn't
offer much chance for happiness, does it?" Then after a pause she added
thoughtfully, "It's not as though there were children to consider."

Her voice trembled with a seeming of repressed emotion of suffering
under injustice and of bearing, with fortitude, a life of cumulative
injury. Had Paul been bent on persuading her to remedy her alleged
mistake, he could hardly have asked a more propitious opportunity.

But this man was capable of no swift and positive decisions. It was not
his to cut Gordian knots. Never before had the woman across