. Lancaster shook her head.

"No. He will never be in love with me again."

The girl gave a quick intaking of her breath, her hand clutching at her
throat.

"Oh, Mrs. Lancaster!" She was thinking aloud rather than speaking. "I
thought that you cared for him."

Alice Lancaster shook her head. She tried to meet frankly the other's
eyes, but as they gazed deep into hers with an inquiry not to be put
aside, hers failed and fell.

"No," she said, but it was with a gasp.

Lois's eyes opened wide, and her face changed.

"Oh!" she murmured, as the sense of what she had done swept over her.
She rose to her feet and, bending down, kissed Mrs. Lancaster tenderly.
One might have thought she was the elder of the two.

Lois returned home in deep thought. She had surprised Mrs. Lancaster's
secret, and the end was plain. She allowed herself no delusions. The
dream that for a moment had shed its radiance on her was broken. Keith
was in love with Mrs. Lancaster, and Alice loved him. She prayed that
they might be happy--especially Keith. She was angry with herself that
she had allowed herself to become so interested in him. She would forget
him. This was easier said than done. But she could at least avoid seeing
him. And having made her decision, she held to it firmly. She avoided
him in every way possible.

The strain, however, had been too much for Lois, and her strength began
to go. The doctor advised Mrs. Wentworth to send her home. "She is
breaking down, and you will have her ill on your hands," he said. Lois,
too, was pining to get away. She felt that she could not stand the city
another week. And so, one day, she disappeared from town.

When Wickersham met Mrs. Lancaster after her talk with Lois, he was
conscious of the change in her. The old easy, indulgent attitude was
gone; and in her eye, instead of the lazy, half-amused smile, was
something very like scorn. Something had happened, he knew.

His thoughts flew to Keith, Norman, Rimmon, also to several ladies of
his acquaintance. What had they told her? Could it be the fact that he
had lost nearly everything--that he had spent Mrs. Wentworth's money?
That he had written anonymous letters? Whatever it was, he would brave
it out. He had been in some hard places lately, and had won out by his
nerve. He assumed an injured and a virtuous air, and no man could do
it better.

"What has happened? You are so strange to me. Has some one been
prejudicing you against me? Some