said.

He took a pillow and raised her head, for she did not deign to move.

"Is that enough?" he inquired.

"One more."

He put his hand under the first pillow and lifted it up. She took hold
of his free hand to raise herself. When she had it she held it and
laughed a curious excited laugh. It came over him all at once, the full
meaning of all the things she had been doing. He dropped the pillow he
was holding and looked at her steadfastly. She relaxed her hold and
leaned back, languorous, smiling. He took her left hand, then her right
and sat down beside her. In a moment he slipped one arm under her waist
and bending over put his lips to hers. She twined her arms about his
neck tightly and hugged him close; then looking in his eyes she heaved a
great sigh.

"You love me, don't you?" he asked.

"I thought you never would," she sighed, and clasped him to her again.

CHAPTER XXIII

The form of Carlotta Wilson was perfect, her passion eager, her subtlety
a match for almost any situation. She had deliberately set out to win
Eugene because he was attractive to her and because, by his early
indifference, he had piqued her vanity and self-love. She liked him
though, liked every one of his characteristics, and was as proud of her
triumph as a child with a new toy. When he had finally slipped his arm
under her waist she had thrilled with a burning, vibrating thrill
throughout her frame and when she came to him it was with the eagerness
of one wild for his caresses. She threw herself on him, kissed him
sensuously scores of times, whispered her desire and her affection.
Eugene thought, now that he saw her through the medium of an awakened
passion, that he had never seen anything more lovely. For the time being
he forgot Frieda, Angela, his loneliness, the fact that he was working
in supposed prudent self-restraint to effect his recovery, and gave
himself up to the full enjoyment of this situation.

Carlotta was tireless in her attentions. Once she saw that he really
cared, or imagined he did, she dwelt in the atmosphere of her passion
and affection. There was not a moment that she was not with or thinking
of Eugene when either was possible. She lay in wait for him at every
turn, gave him every opportunity which her skill could command. She knew
the movements of her mother and cousin to the least fraction--could tell
exactly where they were, how long they were likely to remain, how long
it would take them to rea