ly be home for hours. Yet somehow he had a
joyful conviction that history would repeat itself, that he would find
her, as he had once before, entering the house. His fortune was in the
ascendant. Not even the emptiness of the street discouraged him. He
strolled a little way along and back again. As he passed the door once
more, something bright lying underneath the scraper attracted his
notice. He paused and stooped down. Almost before he had realised what
he was doing, he had picked up a small key, her latch-key, and was
holding it in his hand.

He passed down the street again and there seemed something unreal in the
broad pavement, the frowning houses, the glow of the gas lamps. The
harmless little key burned his flesh. All the passionate acuteness of
life seemed throbbing again in his veins. He retraced his steps, making
no plans, obeying only an ungovernable instinct. The street was empty.
He thrust the key into the lock, opened the door, replaced the key under
the scraper, entered the house and made his way into the room on the
right.

Tallente stood there for a few minutes with fast-beating heart. He had
the feeling that he had burned his boats. He was face to face now with
realities. There was no sound from anywhere. A bright fire was burning
in the grate. An easy-chair was drawn up to the side of a small table,
on which was placed a tumbler, some biscuits, a box of cigarettes and
some matches. A copper saucepan full of milk stood in the hearth, side
by side with some slippers,--dainty, fur-topped slippers. Even these
slight evidences of her coming presence seemed to thrill him. Time
dissolved away into a dream of anticipation. Minutes or hours might
have passed before he heard the motor stop outside, her voice bidding
some friend a cheerful good night, the turning of the key in the door,
the drawing of a bolt, a light step in the hall, and then--Jane.

She was wrapped from head to foot in white furs, a small tiara of
emeralds and diamonds on her head. She entered, humming a tune to
herself, serene, desirable.

"Andrew!"

Her exclamation, the light in her eyes, the pleasure which swiftly took
the place of her first amazement, intoxicated him. He drew her into his
arms and his voice shook.

"Jane," he confessed, "I tried to keep away and I couldn't. I stole in
here to wait for you. And you're glad--thank heavens you're glad!"

"But how long have you been here?" she asked wonderingly.

He shook his head.