ill bring
me. I shall be waiting, waiting. Remember that, always waiting." He
tightened his arms about her and without passion, but gravely, tenderly
he lifted her face. "Good-bye, my love," he said, and kissed her lips.
"My heart's love!" Once more he kissed her. "My life! My love!"

She let the full weight of her body lie in his arms, lifeless but for
the eyes that held his fast and for the lips that gave him back his
kisses. Gently he placed her on the couch.

"God keep you, darling," he whispered, bending over her and touching her
dusky hair with his lips.

He found his hat, walked with unsteady feet as a man walks under a heavy
load, her eyes following his every step, and reached the door. There he
paused, his hand fumbling at the knob, opened the door, halted yet an
instant, but without turning he passed out of her sight.

An hour later Margaret came in and found her sitting where Barney had
left her, dazed and tearless.

"He is gone," she said dully.

Margaret turned upon her. "Gone? Yes. I have just seen him."

"And I love him," continued Iola, looking up at her with heavy eyes.

"Love him! You don't know what love means! Love him! And for your
paltry, selfish ambition you send from you a man whose shoes you are not
worthy to tie!"

"Oh, Margaret!" cried Iola piteously.

"Don't talk to me!" she replied, her lip quivering. "I can't bear to
look at you!" and she passed into her room.

It was intolerable to her that this girl should have regarded lightly
the love she herself would have died to gain. But long after Iola had
sobbed herself to sleep in her arms Margaret lay wakeful for her own
pain and for that of the man she loved better than her life.

But next day, as Iola was planning to go to the station, Margaret would
not have it.

"Why should you go? You have nothing to say but what would give him
pain. Do you want him to despise you and me to hate you?"

But Iola was resolved to have her way. It was Mrs. Duff Charrington
who fortunately intervened and carried Iola off with her to spend the
afternoon and evening.

"Just a few musical friends, my dear. So brush up and come away. Bring
your guitar with you."

Iola demurred.

"I don't feel like it."

"Tut! Nonsense! The lovelorn damsel reads well in erotic novels, but
remember this, the men don't like stale beer."

This bit of worldly wisdom made Iola put on her smartest gown and lay
aside the role she had unconsciously planned to adopt,