d on the chair back. Although they were
quite unaware of it, their position suggested that of a young couple,
before the altar, about to be joined in wedlock. The cynical humor of
the situation struck Millar, who walked around them, stood in the chair
and leaned over the back, like a preacher in his pulpit.

"You are a pessimist," Olga declared, looking up at him.

"No, not a pessimist; only practical."

"I agree with you," Karl said. "A man should stay at home."

CHAPTER V

Millar leaned down, placing his hands over Karl's and Olga's as they
rested on the back of the chair. Looking at Karl, he said:

"Why didn't you stay at home? You ran away to become an artist. You
refused a professional position and ordinary morals; a decent occupation
at so much a week. You wanted to go out and seek the Golden Fleece of
Fame. Now, fight your battle; fight it alone; don't get married."

As he spoke he lifted the hands of Karl and Olga and placed them
together, holding them clasped in his own. They thrilled at each other's
touch; they looked into each other's eyes, and they hardly heard the
cynical devil's voice as Millar leaned yet farther toward them and said:

"I was thinking what a splendid couple you two would make."

Olga felt herself yielding to the devilish insinuation of Millar. She
made no effort to withdraw her hand from Karl's; she was completely
under his sinister, dominating influence. Karl's will seemed equally
impotent; he could not shake off the mysterious obsession. This man was
more than a mere physical presence; he was a part of their very
selves--the weaker, sensual impulses against which they had fought, but
which now seemed gaining the mastery. The struggle went on in the soul
of each as Millar's voice fell melodiously on their ears:

"The most important thing to you in life is to find your proper mate.
Generations of conventional treatment will try to prevent you from doing
so, by pretending it is impossible. But down in your hearts, in their
depths where truth is not perverted by the veneer of convention, I know
and you know that it is the simplest thing on earth. Here you are full
of talent and longing; here is a woman, beautiful, passionate----"

Karl made a last struggle against the inevitable consequence of this
demon's urging, drawing Olga away from him.

"I beg of you, don't!" he cried. "When I look at you I fear. Please
don't speak of it. For six years we have lived peacefully."