e was disappointed as she turned her head
away, but she said nothing. Arrived at the Embankment, the cab came
slowly to a standstill. The girl descended. There was something new in
her manner; she looked away from him when she spoke.

"You had better leave me here," she said. "I am going to sit upon that
seat."

Then came those few seconds' hesitation which were to count for a
great deal in his life. The impulse which bade him stay with her was
unaccountable but it conquered.

"If you do not object," he remarked with some stiffness, "I should like
to sit here with you for a little time. There is certainly a breeze."

She made no comment but walked on. He paid the man and followed her to
the empty seat. Opposite, some illuminated advertisements blazed their
unsightly message across the murky sky. Between the two curving rows
of yellow lights the river flowed--black, turgid, hopeless. Even here,
though they had escaped from its absolute thrall, the far-away roar of
the city beat upon their ears. She listened to it for a moment and then
pressed her hands to the side of her head.

"Oh, how I hate it!" she moaned. "The voices, always the voices,
calling, threatening, beating you away! Take my hands, Leonard
Tavernake,--hold me."

He did as she bade him, clumsily, as yet without comprehension.

"You are not well," he muttered.

Her eyes opened and a flash of her old manner returned. She smiled at
him, feebly but derisively.

"You foolish boy!" she cried. "Can't you see that I am dying? Hold my
hands tightly and watch--watch! Here is one more thing you can see--that
you cannot understand."

He saw the empty phial slip from her sleeve and fall on to the pavement.
With a cry he sprang up and, carrying her in his arms, rushed out into
the road.

CHAPTER III. AN UNPLEASANT MEETING

It was a quarter past eleven and the theatres were disgorging their
usual nightly crowds. The most human thoroughfare in any of the world's
great cities was at its best and brightest. Everywhere commissionaires
were blowing their whistles, the streets were thronged with
slowly-moving vehicles, the pavements were stirring with life. The
little crowd which had gathered in front of the chemist's shop was swept
away. After all, none of them knew exactly what they had been waiting
for. There was a rumor that a woman had fainted or had met with an
accident. Certainly she had been carried into the shop and into the
inner room, the door of