n a queer, even tone.

"Of course it would," she answered, without looking at him. "As you
know, I have lived, from my standpoints, an extraordinarily
unconventional life, but that was because I knew myself and was safe.
But--I have never done anything like this before in my life."

"You have never been in the same position," he reminded her. "There has
never been any one else to consider except yourself."

"True enough," she admitted, "but oughtn't that to make one all the more
careful? I loved seeing you when I came in, and I have loved our few
minutes together, but I am getting a little nervous. Do you see that it
is past two o'clock?"

"There is no one to whom you are accountable for anything in life except
to me," he told her passionately.

She laughed softly but a little uneasily.

"Dear Andrew," she said, "there is my own sense of what is seemly
and--must I use the horrid word?--my reputation to be considered. As it
is, you may be seen leaving the house in the small hours of the
morning."

A little shiver passed through him. All the splendid warmth of living
seemed to be fading away from his heart and thoughts. He was back again
in that empty world of unreal persons. Jane had been a dream. This
kindly faced, beautiful but anxious girl was not the Jane to whose arms
he had come hotfoot through the streets.

"I ought not to have come," he muttered.

"Dear, I don't blame you in the least," she answered, "only be very
careful as you go out. If there is any one passing in the street, wait
for a moment."

"I understand," he promised. "I will take the greatest care."

He took up his hat and coat mechanically. She thrust her arm through
his and led him to the door, looking furtively into his face as though
afraid of what she might find there. Her own heart was beginning to
beat faster. She was filled with a queer sense of failure.

"You are not angry with me, Andrew? You know that I have been happy to
see you?"

"I am not angry," he answered.

There was a little choking in her throat. She felt the rush of strange
things. Her eyes sought his, filled with almost terrified anticipation.
It chanced that he was looking away. She clenched her hands. His
moment had passed.

"There is something else on your mind, Andrew, I know, but to-night we
cannot talk any longer," she said, in something resembling her old tone.
"Be very careful, dear. To-morrow--you will come to-morrow."

He walked down the hall with th