ain-storms. They make me very foolish. We must see less of each other,
Paul."

"And yet," he stubbornly argued, "it has been only an hour since the
basis of our comradeship was secure enough."

"In that hour we have come a long way, dear. It's going to be hard
enough to get back as it is."

She stood still and, after a brief silence, spoke once more.

"I must brush these cobwebs away from my brain ... only--" suddenly her
eyes flooded and there was a gasping sob in her voice--"only they aren't
cobwebs--they are cables and chains! I was a fool to expect to be happy.
I haven't been happy for years. I've never had what I've wanted.... I
haven't even been able to have my baby with me." Marcia went slowly to a
chair and sat staring, wide-eyed, at the wall. At last she looked up and
commanded in a whisper. "You must go now--don't say good-by--just go!"

Paul took up his hat and let himself out into the narrow hall.

CHAPTER XXII

The illness of Elizabeth Burton proved tedious and perplexing to the
specialists who traced its origin beyond the purely physical to some
unconfessed thing gnawing at the peace of her brain. Accordingly they
did what they could and, having effected a temporary repair, fell back
on the customary prescription of change and travel.

During these weeks Mary had been constantly with her mother--and when
she was even a short while away the elder woman anxiously called for
her. Sometimes she and Hamilton had met, but at these times there was no
syllable of surrender from the lips of either; only a tacit sort of
truce such as might have existed where two armies drawn tensely in
confronting battle-lines pause to care for the wounded in which both
have interest. But when the mandate came that Elizabeth Burton must go
abroad Mary Burton faced the sternest dilemma which had ever presented
itself for her decision. The mother refused absolutely to obey the
verdict unless her daughter accompanied her, and while Mary was abroad
she could only guess what crises her lover might be meeting at
home--because he was her lover.

She and Edwardes were walking together one afternoon as they discussed
this new complication in their affairs. They had chosen for their tryst
neither the smooth stretch of the avenue nor the paths of the park, but
those tangled by-ways that thread the woods back of the Jersey
Palisades.

It was a cold day with air as biting as a lash and as clear as crystal,
and since these woo