not know what she was going to do.

"So you're dressed!" Dion said as she came in. "That's right. Let's be
off."

"What is the good of going? You have said we hate each other. How can
this sort of thing go on in hatred? Dion, let us give it all up."

"Why have you put on your things?"

"I don't know. Let us say good-by to-night, and not in anger. We were
not suited to be together for long. We are too different."

"How many men have you said all this to already? Come along!"

He took her firmly by the wrist.

"Wait, Dion!"

"Why should we wait?"

"There's something I must tell you before we go."

He kept his hand on her wrist.

"Well? What is it?"

"I went to Santa Sophia to-day."

As she spoke the Bedouin came before her again. She saw his
bronze-colored arms and his bird-like eyes.

"Santa Sophia! Did you go to pray?"

She stared at him. His lips were curled in a smile.

"No," she said. "But I like to go there sometimes. As I was coming away
I met some one."

"Well?"

"Some one you know--a woman."

"A woman? Lady Ingleton?"

"No; your wife."

The fingers which held her wrist became suddenly cold, but they still
pressed firmly upon her flesh.

"That's a lie!" he said hoarsely.

"It isn't!"

"How dare you tell me such a lie?"

He bent and gazed into her eyes.

"Liar! Liar!"

But though his lips made the assertion, his eyes, in agony, seemed to be
asking a question. He seized her other wrist.

"What's your object in telling me such a lie? What are you trying to
gain by it? Do you think you'll get rid of me for to-night, and that
to-morrow, by some trick, you'll escape from me forever? D'you think
that?"

"I met your wife to-day just outside Santa Sophia," she said steadily.
"When she saw me she stopped. We looked at each other for a minute.
Neither of us spoke a word. But she told me something."

"Told you . . . ?"

"With her eyes. She knows about you and me."

His hands fell from her wrists. By the look in his eyes she saw that he
was beginning to believe her.

"She knows," Mrs. Clarke repeated. "And yet she had come here. What does
that mean?"

"What does that mean?" he repeated, in a muttering voice.

"Do you believe what I say?"

"Yes; she is here."

A fierce wave of red went over his face. For a moment his eyes shone.
Then a look of despair and horror made him frightful, and stirred even
in her a sensation of pity.

He began to tremble.

"Don't! Don't!" she s