alone," Olga began, turning toward him and
speaking very earnestly, "in order to tell you----"

"That is not true," Millar interrupted her, cynically.

"What is not true?"

"What you wanted to tell me," he said with exasperating suavity. "You
really want to talk with me because you regret that my sermon was
interrupted by Mr. Moneybags."

"No, no, I simply want to tell you the truth," she protested.

"You may want to tell the truth--but you never do. I might believe you,
if you told me you were not telling the truth."

"Must I think and speak as you wish?" she cried desperately.

"No, not yet. What may I do for you, madam?"

"Please do not come to-night," she implored.

Millar smiled deprecatingly. She went on rapidly, speaking in a low tone
that she might not be overheard by Herman and Karl.

"I am myself again--a happy, dutiful wife. Your frivolous morals hurt
me. Your words, your thoughts, your sinister influence that seems to
force me against my will, frighten me. I must confess that I had become
interested in your horrible sermon when, thank God, my good husband
rang the bell and put an end to it. He came in at the proper moment."

"Yes, as an object-lesson," Millar sneered. "I observed you closely. We
three were beginning to understand one another when he came in."

"Won't you drop the subject?" Olga asked.

"Are you afraid of it?"

"No," she answered coldly; "but please don't come to-night."

Millar bowed deeply, as if granting her request, but he replied coolly:

"I shall come."

"And if my husband asks you not to come?"

"He will ask me to come."

"And if I should ask you in the presence of my husband not to come?"

"I will agree to this, madam," Millar said, looking at her with
amusement. "If you do not ask me, in the presence of your husband, to
come to-night I will not come. Is that fair?"

"Yes, that is more than nice. It is the first really nice thing you
have said," Olga said, greatly relieved.

She wanted to be rid of this terribly sinister influence; to be out of
reach of the being who seemed to compel her thoughts to link her present
with the past. She wished to feel again the sweet, wholesome purpose
that had inspired her yesterday; to go ahead with her unselfish plans
for Karl's future. Now that he had given his promise, she was eager to
be away, and as Karl and Herman entered she suggested to her husband
that it was time to go.

"Yes, put on your coat," Herman said, turni