"Oh, they're both fine," she answered, indifferently. "I've been all
upset because my cook got married--just walked out. I told Acton not to
pay her, but of course he did; it's nothing to him if my whole house is
upset by the selfishness of somebody else. He and Chris are going off
this afternoon with Joe and Denny Page, for the Thousand Islands----"

"I didn't know Chris was here!" Annie said, in surprise.

"I didn't, myself. He came up with Acton, late last night. They'd
motored all the way; I was asleep when they got in. I didn't know it
until I found him at breakfast this morning----"

Norma's heart stood still. The name alone was enough to shake her to the
very soul, but the thought that he was here--in Newport--this minute,
and that she might not see him, probably indeed would not see him, made
her feel almost faint.

She had not seen him since the meeting on the hotel steps nearly two
weeks ago. It had been the longest and the saddest two weeks in Norma's
life. It was in vain that she reminded herself that her love for him
was weakness and madness, and that by no possible shift of
circumstances could it come to happy consummation. It was in vain that
she pondered Alice's claims, and all the family claims, and the general
claim of society as an institution. Deep and strong and unconquerable
above them all rose the tide of love and passion, the gnawing and
burning hunger for the sight of him, the sound of his voice, the touch
of his hand.

Life had become for her a vague and changing dream, with his name for
its only reality. Somewhere in the fog of days was Chris, and she would
not live again until she saw him. He must forgive her; he must explain
his coldness, explain the change in him, and then she would be content
just with the old friendliness, just the old nearness and the occasional
word together.

Every letter that Joseph brought her, every call to the telephone, meant
to her only the poignant possibility of a message from him. She sickened
daily with fresh despair, and fed herself daily with new hopes.

To-day she was scarcely conscious of the hilarious progress of the
luncheon; she looked at the prospective bride, in whose honour Aunt
Annie entertained, only with a pang of wonder. What was it like, the
knowledge that one was openly beloved, the miraculous right to plan an
unclouded future together? The mere thought of being free to love Chris,
of having him free to claim her, almost dizzied Norma