ad a charming
repertoire of songs, to come to his apartment and sing. He had met him
at a social affair in Brooklyn with which Winfield had something to do.
A number of people were invited--Mrs. Dale, Suzanne, and Kinroy, among
others; but Mrs. Dale could not come, and as Suzanne had an appointment
for the next morning, Sunday, in the city, she decided to stay at the
Witlas. This pleased Eugene immensely. He had bought a sketching book
which he had begun to fill with sketches of Suzanne from memory and
these he wanted to show her. Besides, he wanted her to hear this
singer's beautiful voice.

The company was interesting. Kinroy brought Suzanne early and left.
Eugene and Suzanne, after she had exchanged greetings with Angela, sat
out on the little stone balcony overlooking the river and exchanged
loving thoughts. He was constantly holding her hand when no one was
looking and stealing kisses. After a time the company began to arrive,
and finally the singer himself. The trained nurse, with Eugene's
assistance, helped Angela forward, who listened enraptured to the songs.
Suzanne and Eugene, swept by the charm of some of them, looked at each
other with that burning gaze which love alone understands. To Eugene
Suzanne's face was a perfect flower of hypnotic influence. He could
scarcely keep his eyes off her for a moment at a time. The singer
ceased, the company departed. Angela was left crying over the beauty of
"The Erlking," the last song rendered. She went back to her room, and
Suzanne ostensibly departed for hers. She came out to say a few final
words to Mrs. Witla, then came through the studio to go to her own room
again. Eugene was there waiting. He caught her in his arms, kissing her
silently. They pretended to strike up a conventional conversation, and
he invited her to sit out on the stone balcony for a few last moments.
The moon was so beautiful over the river.

"Don't!" she said, when he gathered her in his arms, in the shadow of
the night outside. "She might come."

"No," he said eagerly.

They listened, but there was no sound. He began an easy pretence to
talk, the while stroking her pretty arm, which was bare. Insanity over
her beauty, the loveliness of the night, the charm of the music, had put
him beside himself. He drew her into his arms in spite of her protest,
only to have Angela suddenly appear at the other end of the room where
the door was. There was no concealing anything she saw. She came rapidly