eweler would
feel badly about all the spoons the Crown Prince took home with
him. . . . Anyway, they wanted me to stay over there and do
reforestation. Big chances. But I didn't feel as if I could stay away
from little old New York--naturally Marge had nothing to do with
it--another hour. Would you have liked to go to Italy and watch me
re-forest, Marjorie?"

Marjorie's "Oh, _no_!" was very fervent. She also found herself
thinking stealthily that even any one as efficient as Francis could not
reforest the city of New York, and that therefore any position he had
would very likely let her off. Maybe he might go very soon.

With this thought in her mind she led the way up the three flights of
stairs to the tiny apartment she and Lucille Strong shared. If Francis
had not spoken as they reached the door she might have carried it
through. But just as she fitted her key in the door he did speak,
behind her, an arm about her.

"In another minute you and I will be alone together; in our own
home--my wife----"

He took the key gently from her hand; he unlocked the door, and drew
her in, with his arms around her. He pushed the door to behind them,
and bent down to kiss her again, very tenderly and reverently. And in
that instant Marjorie's self-control broke.

CHAPTER II

"Oh, please don't touch me, just for a minute!" she exclaimed.
"Please--please--just stop a _minute_!"

She did not realize that her tone was very much that of a patient
addressing a dentist. Francis's arms dropped, and he looked at her,
all the light going out of his face, and showing its weary lines. He
closed the door entirely, carefully. He went mechanically over to a
chair and sat down on it, always with that queer carefulness; he laid
his cap beside him, and looked at Marjorie, crouched against the door.

"Please come over here and sit down," he said very courteously, but
with the boyishness gone from his voice even more completely than
Marjorie had wished.

She came very meekly and sat opposite him, with a little queer cold
feeling around her heart.

"Please look at me," he asked gently. She lifted her blue eyes
miserably to his, and tried to smile. But unconsciously she shrank a
little as she did so, and he saw it.

"I won't touch you--not until you want me to," he began. "What's the
matter, Marjorie? Is it nerves, or are you afraid of me, or----"

"It--it was just your coming so suddenly," she lied miserably. "It