has until I saw him at the
altar."

"Well, it isn't exactly a joke, you know," retorted Kemper.

For the first time, as Laura watched him, she remembered that he had
been through it all before without her; and the thought entered her
heart like a dagger, that even now there was another woman alive
somewhere in the world who had been his wife--who had been almost as
much loved, almost as close to him as she herself was to-day. The
thought sickened her, and she felt again her blind terror of a step so
irrevocable.

Gerty had gone at last; and Kemper, after walking twice up and down the
room, stopped to examine a silver coffee service with an attention which
was so evidently assumed that Laura was convinced he might as well have
fixed his gaze upon the fireplace. His thoughts were busily occupied in
quite an opposite direction from his eyes, for turning presently, he
laid down the sugar bowl he had picked up, and went rapidly to the
mantel piece, where he took down a photograph of Roger Adams.

"You don't see much of Adams now?" he remarked enquiringly.

"Not much," she went over to the mantel and glanced carelessly at the
picture in his hand. "I never shall again."

"How's that? and why?"

"Oh, I don't know--one never sees much of one's friends after marriage,
somehow. To supply the world to me," she added gayly, "is a part of the
responsibility of your position."

Though his gaze was fixed intently upon her face, she saw clearly that
he had hardly taken in her words, for while she spoke his hands wandered
to the inside pocket of his coat, as if he wished to make sure of a
letter he had placed there.

"By the way, Laura, a queer thing happened to-day," he said, frowning.

She looked up a little startled.

"A queer thing?"

"I had a letter from Madame Alta asking why I hadn't sold some stock I'd
been holding for her? She lost a good deal by my not selling and she was
in a devilish temper about it."

Laura had not lowered her eyes, and as he finished she smiled into his
face.

"And you did not sell?" she asked.

"I never got the letter--but the odd part is she says she came to see me
about it the day you were there with Gerty--that she saw you and that
she left the letter with you to deliver--"

He broke off and stood waiting with a half angry, half baffled look; and
then as she was still silent he picked up a red leather box from the
table, laid it down again and came nearer to where she stood.

"Is