After a moment she said: "So you have concluded that you care for John
Estridge?"

"Yes, I care," said Ilse absently, the same odd, sweet smile curving
her cheeks.

"That is--wonderful," said Palla, not looking at her.

Ilse remained silent, her blue gaze aloof.

A maid came and turned up the lamps, and went away again.

Palla said in a low voice: "Are you--afraid?"

"No."

They both remained silent until she rose to go. Palla, walking with
her to the head of the stairs, holding one of her hands imprisoned,
said with an effort: "I am frightened, dear.... I can't help it....
You will be certain, first, won't you?----"

"It is as certain as death," said Ilse in a low, still voice.

Palla shivered; she passed one arm around her; and they stood so for a
while. Then Ilse's arm tightened, and the old gaiety glinted in her
sea-blue eyes:

"Is your house in order too, Palla?" she asked. "Turn around, little
enigma! There; I can look into those brown eyes now. And I see nothing
in them to answer me my question."

"Do you mean Jim?"

"I do."

"I haven't seen him."

"For how long?"

"Weeks. I don't know how long it has been----"

"Have you quarrelled?"

"Yes. We seem to. This is quite the most serious one yet."

"You are not in love with him."

"Oh, Ilse, I don't know. He simply can't understand me. I feel so
bruised and tired after a controversy with him. He seems to be so
merciless to my opinions--so violent----"

"You poor child.... After all, Palla, freedom also means the liberty
to change one's mind.... If you should care to change yours----"

"I can't change my inmost convictions."

"Those--no."

"I have not changed them. I almost wish I could. But I've got to be
honest.... And he can't understand me."

Ilse smiled and kissed her: "That is scarcely to be wondered at, as
you don't seem to know your own mind. Perhaps when you do he, also,
may understand you. Good-bye! I must run----"

Palla watched her to the foot of the stairs; the door closed; the
engine of a taxi began to hum.

Her telephone was ringing when she returned to the living room, and
the quick leap of her heart averted her of the hope revived.

But it was a strange voice on the wire,--a man's voice, clear,
sinister, tainted with a German accent:

"Iss this Miss Dumont? Yess? Then this I haff to say to you: You shall
find yourself in serious trouble if you do not move your foolish club
of vimmen out of the vicinity of which y