f in return for the love that I must have? Don't
you understand why--"

She was quite close to him when he interrupted the impassioned appeal. His
hand shook as he held it up to check her approach.

"It's all over, Anne. There is nothing more to be said. I understand
everything now. May God forgive you," he said huskily.

She stopped short. Her head went up and defiance shone in her face.

"I'd rather have your forgiveness than God's," she said distinctly, "and
since I may not ask for it now, I will wait for it, my friend. We love
each other. Time mends a good many breaks. Good-bye! Some day I hope
you'll come to see your poor old granny, and bring--"

"Oh, for the love of heaven, have a little decency, Anne," he cried, his
lip curling.

But her pride was roused, it was in revolt against all of the finer
instincts that struggled for expression.

"You'd better go now. Run upstairs and tell your grandfather that his
scheme worked perfectly. Tell him everything I have said. He will not
mind. I am sorry you will not remain to see the contract signed. I should
like to have you for a witness. If you--"

"Contract? What contract?"

"Oh," she said lightly, "just a little agreement on his part to make life
endurable for me while he continues to live. We are to sign the paper at
five o'clock. Yes, you'd better run along, Braden, or you'll find yourself
the centre of a perplexed crowd. Before you go, please take a last look at
me in my sepulchre. Here I stand! Am I not fair to look upon?"

"God, I'd sooner see you in your grave than here," he grated out. "You'd
be better off, a thousand times."

"This is my grave," she said, "or will be soon. I suppose I am not to
count you among the mourners?"

He slammed the door behind him, and she was alone.

"How I hate people who slam doors," she said to herself.

CHAPTER VII

A fortnight passed. Preparations for the wedding went on in the Tresslyn
home with little or no slackening of the tension that had settled upon the
inmates with the advent of the disturber. Anne was now sullenly determined
that nothing should intervene to prevent the marriage, unless an unkind
Providence ordered the death of Templeton Thorpe. She was bitter toward
Braden. Down in her soul, she knew that he was justified in the stand he
had taken, and in that knowledge lay the secret of her revolt against one
of the commands of Nature. He had treated her with the scorn that she knew
she deserve