milliner at your mercy for all I could see."

Traill snorted contemptuously. "She's not a little milliner," he
said, cutting each word clean with irony. "Neither in your sense,
nor in reality. Fortune has cursed her with being a lady and withheld
the necessary increment that would make such things obvious to you.
Good night."

He stood away, and told the chauffeur the address in Sloane Street.
They did not look at each other again, and the little vehicle pulled
away from the kerbstone without the final nod of the head or shaking
of the hand which usually terminated their meetings.

The last sight she had of him, was as he stood looking down Waterloo
Place, his eyes picking out the people one by one, as the miner sifts
the dross from the dust of gold. Then she leant back in the cab and
a low, sententious laugh lazily parted her lips.

For a moment, Traill stood there; but Sally was out of sight. It
crossed his mind to run down into Pall Mall--coatless, hatless, as
he was--in the hope of finding her; but an inner consciousness
convinced him that she would return, and he walked back into the house,
upstairs to his room to wait for her.

When the mind had been made up to a critical sacrifice, it hates to
be thwarted. The more difficult the sacrifice may be, the more the
mind is revolted by the hampering of circumstances. Having brought
herself through a thousand temptings to the determination that she
must not keep the bangle which Traill had given her, Sally felt
incensed with circumstances, incensed with everything, that she had
been hindered in the carrying out of her design. All that Janet had
said about her ultimate going back to him, she had wiped out with
a rough and unrelenting hand during that hour when she had been in
his sister's presence. But the sting of the other remained, while
she firmly believed that her desire to see him once more, herself
in the frail attitude of hope, had vanished--was dead, buried, almost
forgotten.

The working of the mind is so like that of the body, that comparisons
can be drawn at every point. When the body needs nourishment, or
exercise, or rest, and is denied all of these things, it circumvents
its own master and steals its needs with cunning. So is it precisely
with the mind. When the mind craves a certain expression of itself,
needs a certain relief, and is denied its craving, then it, too,
circumvents its own master, and, by the crafty displacement of ideas,
hoodwinki