drop remaineth
To wet thy lips--then turn thou down the bowl.

"Lord of my heart--this boon I crave--this only,
That all my worth may be possessed by thee;
Make thou my life a chalice, drained, that lonely
Stands on the altar of Eternity."

She looked up at him as her fingers wandered to the final chord. His
lips were set in a thin line, and he was breathing quickly.

"Why did you sing that?" he asked.

She blindly shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know--why shouldn't I?
The music's a good deal nicer than the words, I think. Don't you find
the words are rather silly? They are of most songs, I think."

"And you call that silly," he said. "I suppose it's a woman's
song--but, my God! do you know I could sing that to you?"

His arm was round her then, dragging her towards him in a lithe grip,
the fierce strength of which she too well understood. She struggled,
breathing heavily, for her freedom; but he caught her face in his
hand, dragged it to his lips and covered her with kisses.

Then she broke free, rising to her feet, overturning the chair behind
her, pushing back the disordered hair from her forehead.

"How dare you!" she breathed.

Countless women have said it, in countless moments similar to this.
And with it, often, seeing all the circumstances that have led up
to it in their different light, comes the knowledge--as it came also
to Sally--the understanding of how the man has dared. Recklessness
had led her. In her heart, she blamed herself. She might have known
men now; known them from her knowledge at least of one man.
Undoubtedly she was to blame, taking everything into account--the
defencelessness of her position, the fact that he had known of her
relationship with Traill and its termination; yet her eyes flamed
with contempt as they met his.

"Your hat is over on that chair." she said presently in a strident
voice. "Will you go?"

He crossed the room quietly--no want of composure--and picked it up.

"Would you rather I didn't come and see you again?" he asked, brushing
the hat casually with his sleeve.

"I never want to see you again!" she exclaimed.

He smiled amiably. "Don't you think you're rather foolish?"

"Foolish!"

"Yes--the unmarried man who keeps a woman is bound to leave her some
time or other--that's not half as likely to be the case with--"

"What do you mean?" She was white to the lips.

He looked puzzled. "I'm afraid I can't understand you," he said.

S