it was true and then come
back!"

"Let me kiss you--let me, let me!" He was overwhelming her, ignoring her
resistance. "I must kiss you, I must kiss you." He said it again and
again.

"No, no, you shan't--you can't play with me! You said you were afraid
for me, and you made me afraid, too--of my weakness--of the danger--of
my longing for you----"

"Let me kiss you! Yes, you shall let me; you _shall_ let me." His arms
held her, his face touched hers.

"Aren't you afraid any more? Has a miracle happened--may we kiss in
spite of to-morrow?"

Inch by inch she was relaxing. All thought was slipping away into a
great white light that held no to-morrows, nor any fear of them, nor of
herself, nor of anything. The light crept to her feet, rose to her
heart, her head. Through the radiance came his words.

"Yes, a miracle. Oh, my dear--my little child! I've come back to kiss
you, little child."

"Kiss me, then," she said against his lips.

III

Hazily she was aware that he had released her; that she had raised her
head; that against the rough tweed of his shoulder there lay a long,
corn-gold hair.

She laughed shakily and her hand went up to remove it; but he caught her
fingers and held them to his face. And with the movement and his look
there came over her in a wave the shame of her surrender, a shame that
was yet a glory, a diadem of pride. She turned blindly away.

"Please," she heard herself saying, "let me go now. I want to be alone.
I want to--please don't tell me to-night. To-morrow----"

She was at the door, groping for the handle. Behind her she heard his
voice; it was very tender.

"I shall always kneel to you--in your shrine."

Then she was outside, and the chilly passages were cooling her burning
face. She had left him in the room behind her; and she knew he would
wait there long enough to allow her to leave the building. Almost
immediately, it seemed, she was downstairs in the hall, had reached the
entrance.

She confronted a group of white-faced, silent men.

"Why, is anything the matter? What has happened? O'Dell?"

The porter stood forward. He cleared his throat twice, but for all that,
his words were barely audible.

"Yes, Miss Carryll. Good-night, miss. You'd best be going on, miss, if
you'll excuse----"

Behind O'Dell stood a policeman; behind him again, a grave-eyed man
stooped to an unusual task. It arrested her attention like the flash of
red danger.

"Why is the door of your