fe. It was this afternoon. A telegram
came--from some friend of his...."

All further words, if more there were, bounded off from the sudden iron
stillness within her. Mechanically she raised the receiver to the hook,
for was not her talk with Meeghan's quite finished? Jack Dalhousie had
killed himself. Sackcloth and ashes would not get a telegram to him
now.... And then, some flying remembrance of the bearer of the tidings
struck through her numbness, and she caught down the receiver again and
said indistinctly:

"I can't talk any more now.... I'll be all right...."

Then all thought stopped, and her head went forward upon her hands. The
yellow plume nodded bravely....

Outside the door of the booth was the brilliant corridor, and beyond a
glimpse of the dining-room, pretty with shaded lights, gay with music
and talk, and eyes that stared unabashed. Somewhere in there were Mrs.
Heth and Canning, dining well.

The page stood near, the call-slip offered upon his tray. He, who
admired her, was aware of a subtle distortion in this lady's winning
loveliness.

"Take it, please," said she, "to the lady at the table where you found
me. And say I shall not come back to dinner."

Then Carlisle found herself in the cloak-room, which happened to be
empty except for the smiling maid. She had hardly entered and repelled
the woman's overtures, when she heard the hurried step of her mother,
brought quickly by the buttons' strange words.

"Cally! Are you ill? What on earth's happened?"

Cally sat stiffly in a chair against the wall, her face colorless.
Different, this, from the telling she had contemplated, not five minutes
ago. What had happened, indeed?

She said in a small flat voice: "I heard some bad news--over the
telephone. A man--has died. He killed himself, this afternoon--"

Commanding even in that moment, Mrs. Heth turned upon the hovering maid
and said: "A glass of water."

When the woman had passed out of earshot, she turned again, and put her
two strong hands on Cally's shoulders.

"What man? Who was this you called up long-distance?"

"Mr. Dalhousie," said Cally's small voice. "I called up a friend of
his...." She looked up fixedly at her mother and said: "Mamma, he did it
because of me."

The name of ill omen staggered the mother a little. Her voice was half
harsh, half frightened:

"Because of you! You are ill, my poor child. The shock has upset you.
You are out of your head. The boy's mind was unh