orget to wait on the stairs for me...."

CHAPTER VIII

AN AFTERGLOW

Deliciously weary, every fibre in her throbbing with physical fatigue,
she had nevertheless found it impossible to sleep.

The vivid memory of Duane holding her in his arms, while she gave her
heart to him with her lips, left her tremulous and confused by emotions
of which she yet knew little.

Toward dawn a fever of unrest drove her from her hot, crushed pillows to
the cool of the open casements. The morning was dark and very still; no
breeze stirred; a few big, widely scattered stars watched her. For a
long while she stood there trying to quiet the rapid pulse and fast
breathing; and at length, with an excited little laugh, she sank down
among the cushions on the window-seat and lay back very still, her head,
with its glossy, disordered hair, cradled in her arms.

"Is _this_ love?" she said to herself. "Is this what it is doing to me?
Am I never again going to sleep?"

But she could not lie still; her restless hands began groping about in
the darkness, and presently the fire from a cigarette glimmered red.

She remained quiet for a few moments, elbow among the pillows, cheek on
hand, watching the misty spirals float through the open window. After a
while she sat up nervously and tossed the cigarette from her. Like a
falling star the spark whirled earthward in a wide curve, glowed for a
few seconds on the lawn below, and slowly died out.

Then an inexplicable thing occurred. Unthinkingly she had turned over
and extended her arm, searching in the darkness behind her. There came a
tinkle, a vague violet perfume, and the starlight fell on her clustering
hair and throat as she lifted and drained the brimming glass.

Suddenly she stood up; the frail, crystal glass fell from her fingers,
splintering on the stone sill; and with a quick, frightened intake of
breath, lips still wet and scented, and the fire of it already stealing
through her veins, she awoke to stunned comprehension of what she had
done.

For a moment only startled astonishment dominated her. That she could
have done this thing so instinctively and without forethought or intent,
seemed impossible. She bowed her head in her hands, striving desperately
to recollect the circumstances; she sprang to her feet and paced the
darkened room, trying to understand. A terrified and childish surprise
possessed her, which changed slowly to anger and impatience as she began
to realise th