artial tone. "No man likes to hear that sort of thing, even if his
wife tells it herself. Though he may know she has loved some one else,
he does not care to have it stated in words; he would rather leave it
disembodied." Anne was looking at him; a sudden pain, which she did not
have time to conceal, showed itself in her face as he spoke. "You
darling child!" said Heathcote, laughing. "See how you look when I even
_speak_ of your marrying any one save me!"

She shrank back, feeling the justice of his inference. Her resolution
remained unchanged; but she could not withstand entirely the personal
power of his presence. She gazed at the afternoon sunshine striking the
mountain-peaks, and asked herself how she could bear the long hours that
still lay between her and the time of release--release from this narrow
space where she must sit beside him, and feel the dangerous subtle
influence of his voice and eyes. Then suddenly an idea came to her, like
a door opening silently before a prisoner in a cell. She kept her face
turned toward the window, while rapidly and with a beating heart she
went over its possibilities. Yes, it could be done. It should be done.
With inward excitement she tried to arrange the details.

Heathcote had fallen into silence; but he seemed quite content to sit
there beside her without speaking. At last, having decided upon her
course, and feeling nervously unable to endure his wordless presence
longer, she began to talk of Caryl's, Miss Vanhorn, mademoiselle, the
half-house--anything and everything which possessed no real importance,
and did not bear upon the subject between them. He answered her in his
brief fashion. If she wished to pad the dangerous edges of the day with
a few safe conventionalities, he had no objection; women would be
conventional on a raft in mid-ocean. The afternoon moved on toward
sunset. He thought the contest was over, that although she might still
make objection, at heart she had yielded; and he was not unwilling to
rest. Why should they hurry? The whole of life was before them.

As night fell, they reached Stringhampton Junction, and the great engine
stopped again. The passengers hastened hungrily into the little
supper-room, and Heathcote urged mademoiselle to accompany him thither,
and taste a cup of that compound found at railway stations called Japan
tea. Jeanne-Armande looked half inclined to accept this invitation, but
Anne, answering for both, said: "No; we have all w