hands opened in a gesture
of dismissal. "But don't let's speak of it now. I want to hear your plans
for the future. What are you going to do now that you have--power?"

"Do?" Roberts looked at her steadily. "That depends upon one condition
absolutely. It's superfluous for me to name that one."

The girl flashed him a look from eyes unnaturally bright.

"Please," she pleaded, "leave it alone for a time. You have two courses
outlined, an option. It would be unlike you otherwise. What are those
two?"

"I didn't mean to be insistent, Elice," said Roberts, gently. "Take my
word for it, I shan't be again, whatever you decide. Yes; I see two ways
ahead. In one, work will be secondary, another's happiness first, always
first. In the other, I shall work--to forget. The incentive of the game
itself is gone. I've won the game. But there is no other way to forget
and retain self-respect; so I shall work--to the end."

"And you must decide soon?"

"Yes, at once. I can't remain longer in uncertainty. Nothing is so bad as
that. It's like a bungling execution: infinitely better for all concerned
to be complete. To-morrow I take up the trail one way or the other."

Opposite, the girl caught her breath for an instant; but though the other
saw he said nothing. He had promised he would not.

"You'll leave then to-morrow, if--" That was all.

"Yes."

"And never come back, never?"

"Not unless I am sent for. Life is short and holds enough pain at best. I
have several projects in mind, and I shall be free to follow them where
they lead. I'll go to Mexico first. They've barely scratched the
resources down there. Later I go to South America. Afterward--I haven't
planned. I'll simply follow the lead. There's work enough to do."

The girl looked at him--through eyes that held their old marvel, almost
their old fear.

"You can cut yourself off so, from all the old life, really?" she
voiced.

"Yes, Elice."

It was finality absolute, the last word, the ultimatum.

"And still you love me?" breathed the girl low.

"More than I love life. You don't doubt it."

From her seat the girl arose abruptly and passed the length of the room
with long, unconscious strides, like a man. She made no effort at
dissimulation or concealment now. The time for that was past. She merely
fought--openly, but in silence. Once she sat down for a moment; but for a
moment only. Again she was on her feet. A bit later she asked the time,
and very quietly R