has not my disadvantage of laboring to save his
affianced's name from everlasting disgrace."

"Perhaps he doesn't find disgrace where you seem to look for it."

"It is cheap to be prodigal with other men's belongings. What is this
man to you?"

"Hugo!--Hugo!" broke from her. "I can't bear this!... You must leave
me."

"If I go," said Canning, trembling, "I do not return."

"It is what I wish," said Carlisle.

And her other hand came to her heart, to his glittering pledge upon her
finger....

Canning stood watching her, paling and purpling. How they had come to
this he knew no more than Carlisle; and no more than she could he force
his steps backward. In truth, the deeps of him had never so passionately
desired her as now, yearning beyond reason or understanding to the
untamed spirit. And yet ... What did he know of her, whom he thought he
knew so well? She had flirted with a young drunkard, fraternized with a
low crank, inextricably involved herself in the scandals of a suicide.
Taxed with these things, she was wantonly rebellious, contemptuously
indifferent to his wishes. Lovely and wild she stood there. And yet ...

He heard his hoarse voice saying: "Think, Carlisle. You are sure that
this is what you wish ..."

"You leave me no alternative."

"Oh, but I have ... I do."

"Not one that I can accept."

"Then you force me to say good-bye."

"Good-bye."

His legs could not have heard the marching-order; he remained rooted
where he stood. Ebbings and flowings of color mottled his handsome face.

"One last word ... Is it to come to this? We stand ... at the final
parting of the ways. Think ... This is what you wish?"

If he still hoped for impossible reconciliation, or if merely some
instinct moved him to put the burden for the breaking upon her, Carlisle
did not know. She was past arguing now.

"This is yours."

On the pink palm he had kissed such a little while ago she held out the
glorious diamond he had given her in the first radiance of the
engagement. Canning saw no way of escaping the offering; he accepted it
with a stiff bow, dropped it in the pocket of his coat. But it was a
business to which even he quite failed to impart any dignity.

He looked blindly about for his hat and stick, remembered that he had
left them outside, turned and faced his love again. Between them passed
a long look.

"Then ... this is good-bye."

"Good-bye," said Cally again.

And then Hugo opened the door of pa