ver
feeling love--you who've felt it so many times?" Then, clasping her
hands tight, with a sort of wonder at herself, she murmured: "I AM in
love. I've given myself."

He made a queer, whining sound, covering his face. And the beggar's
tag: "'Ave a feelin' 'eart, gentleman--'ave a feelin' 'eart!" passed
idiotically through Gyp's mind. Would he get up and strangle her? Should
she dash to the door--escape? For a long, miserable moment, she watched
him swaying on the window-seat, with his face covered. Then, without
looking at her, he crammed a clenched hand up against his mouth, and
rushed out.

Through the open door, Gyp had a glimpse of Markey's motionless figure,
coming to life as Fiorsen passed. She drew a long breath, locked the
door, and lay down on her bed. Her heart beat dreadfully. For a moment,
something had checked his jealous rage. But if on this shock he began
to drink, what might not happen? He had said something wild. And she
shuddered. But what right had he to feel jealousy and rage against her?
What right? She got up and went to the glass, trembling, mechanically
tidying her hair. Miraculous that she had come through unscathed!

Her thoughts flew to Summerhay. They were to meet at three o'clock by
the seat in St. James's Park. But all was different, now; difficult and
dangerous! She must wait, take counsel with her father. And yet if she
did not keep that tryst, how anxious he would be--thinking that
all sorts of things had happened to her; thinking perhaps--oh,
foolish!--that she had forgotten, or even repented of her love. What
would she herself think, if he were to fail her at their first tryst
after those days of bliss? Certainly that he had changed his mind, seen
she was not worth it, seen that a woman who could give herself so soon,
so easily, was one to whom he could not sacrifice his life.

In this cruel uncertainty, she spent the next two hours, till it was
nearly three. If she did not go out, he would come on to Bury Street,
and that would be still more dangerous. She put on her hat and walked
swiftly towards St. James's Palace. Once sure that she was not being
followed, her courage rose, and she passed rapidly down toward the
water. She was ten minutes late, and seeing him there, walking up and
down, turning his head every few seconds so as not to lose sight of the
bench, she felt almost lightheaded from joy. When they had greeted with
that pathetic casualness of lovers which deceives so f