themselves. The room might be over-gorgeous by
daylight, but it was beautiful thus lighted, with a rosy radiance from
above, bringing out the whiteness of damask, the snow purity of
camellias crowding a crystal bowl, and the ruby splendour of
strawberries piled on their own leaves.

What a wonderful sight after months of the Hands restaurant and free
lunches with five-cent chocolate in busy drug stores! Oh, yes, she was
glad she had come, and she must look, look, look at this beautiful
picture, so that she might remember its details and hold it before her
eyes, like a delicately painted transparency, in front of future
realities.

But it was in carrying out this intention, in taking in the details,
that Win's heart suddenly bounded and then missed a beat. The table
had two chairs drawn up to it. It was small and round, and on it only
two places were laid.

Win turned her head and looked for Lily Leavitt. Lily was not there,
neither was the tall, respectable servant. But a smiling man in
evening dress was just coming into the room with the ingratiating air
of one who is a little late for an appointment.

"How do you do, Miss Child?" Jim Logan cordially inquired, holding out
his hand. "This is mighty good of you!"

A thousand thoughts whirled after each other through the girl's head,
like the mechanical horses on a circular toy race course, such as she
had often sold at Peter Rolls's. Round and round they wildly turned
for an instant, then began to slow down.

This house was closed for the summer. The front was boarded up, and
perhaps the back windows also. No lights could be seen, and probably
no sounds heard. Two places only were laid for supper. Lily, then, had
gone--had always meant to go and leave her here, had been bribed to
bring her and go. Oh, but it must have been a big bribe this time, for
surely Lily Leavitt would never dare look her in the face again! One
of them would have to disappear from the mantle department of the
Hands. Was Logan giving Lily enough money to make up for a sacrifice
of all those commissions, or did Lily think that after to-night
she--Winifred Child--would never come back to Peter Rolls's?

As that question asked itself loud bells jangled in Win's head. She
felt as if she were losing her senses. But no, she must not--must not
do that. Never in her life had she so much need to keep them all as
now, in this locked house, where she had no help to hope for save what
her own wits mig