d while I'm here!' If
Larry had indeed gone to them! If that Policeman who had seen him here
the night after the murder should find him here again just after the
verdict! He said almost fiercely:

"Can I trust you not to let Larry out of your sight? Quick! Answer!"

Clasping her hands to her breast, she answered humbly:

"I will try."

"If he hasn't already done this, watch him like a lynx! Don't let him go
out without you. I'll come to-morrow morning early. You're a Catholic,
aren't you? Swear to me that you won't let him do anything till he's
seen me again."

She did not answer, looking past him at the door; and Keith heard a key
in the latch. There was Laurence himself, holding in his hand a great
bunch of pink lilies and white narcissi. His face was pale and haggard.
He said quietly:

"Hallo, Keith!"

The girl's eyes were fastened on Larry's face; and Keith, looking from
one to the other, knew that he had never had more need for wariness.

"Have you seen?" he said.

Laurence nodded. His expression, as a rule so tell-tale of his emotions,
baffled Keith utterly.

"Well?"

"I've been expecting it."

"The thing can't stand--that's certain. But I must have time to look
into the report. I must have time to see what I can do. D'you understand
me, Larry--I must have time." He knew he was talking at random. The only
thing was to get them away at once out of reach of confession; but he
dared not say so.

"Promise me that you'll do nothing, that you won't go out even till I've
seen you to-morrow morning."

Again Laurence nodded. And Keith looked at the girl. Would she see that
he did not break that promise? Her eyes were still fixed immovably on
Larry's face. And with the feeling that he could get no further, Keith
turned to go.

"Promise me," he said.

Laurence answered: "I promise."

He was smiling. Keith could make nothing of that smile, nor of the
expression in the girl's eyes. And saying: "I have your promise, I rely
on it!" he went.

IX

To keep from any woman who loves, knowledge of her lover's mood, is as
hard as to keep music from moving the heart. But when that woman has
lived in suffering, and for the first time knows the comfort of love,
then let the lover try as he may to disguise his heart--no use! Yet by
virtue of subtler abnegation she will often succeed in keeping it from
him that she knows.

When Keith was gone the girl made no outcry, asked no questions, managed
that Larry