o speedy preparations for bed.

Then, as at last they were about to separate, she put a warm arm about
the girl and held her close. "What is it? Aren't you happy?" she said.

A great sob went through Dot. Her trouble was more than she could bear.
She clung to Adela with unaccustomed closeness.

"I've promised to marry Fletcher at the end of the week--instead of going
back with you to the farm."

"I thought that was what he was after," said Adela. "But--don't you want
to?"

"No," whispered Dot, trembling.

"Well, why don't you tell him so--tell him he's got to wait? Shall I
tell him for you, you poor little thing?" Adela's voice was full of
compassion.

But Dot was instant in her refusal. "No, oh, no! Don't tell him! I--I
couldn't give him--any particular reason for waiting. I shall feel
better--I'm sure I shall feel better--when it's over."

"I expect you will," said Adela. "But I don't like your being miserable.
I say, Dot--" she clasped the quivering form closer, with a sudden rare
flash of intuition--"there isn't--anyone else you like better, is there?"

But at that Dot started as if she had been stung, and drew herself
swiftly away. "Oh, no!" she said, vehemently. "No--no--no!"

"Then I shouldn't worry," said Adela, sensibly. "It's nothing but
nerves."

She kissed her and went to her own room, where she speedily slept. But
Dot lay wide-eyed, unresting, while the hours crawled by, seeing only
the vivid blue eyes that had looked into hers, and thrilled her--and
thrilled her with their magic.

In the morning she arose early, urged by a fevered restlessness that
drove her with relentless force. Dressing, she discovered the loss of a
little heart-shaped brooch, Jack's gift, which she always wore.

Adela, still lying in bed, assured her that she had seen it in her dress
the previous evening while at dinner. "It probably came out in that
little conservatory place when Fletcher was embracing you," she said.

"Not very likely, I think," said Dot, flushing.

Nevertheless, since she valued it, she finished dressing in haste and
departed to search for it.

There was no one about with the exception of a man who was cleaning up
the billiard-room and assured her that her property was not there. So
she passed on along the passage to the shabby little glass-house whither
she and Fletcher had retreated on the previous evening.

She expected to find the place deserted, and was surprised by a whiff of
tobacco-smoke