stars are to-night," said Cora, very
gently.

She leaned forward from her chair, extending a white arm along the
iron railing of the porch; bending toward Corliss, and speaking
toward him and away from Hedrick in as low a voice as possible,
probably entertaining a reasonable hope of not being overheard.

"I love things that are cool and kind," she said. "I love things
that are cool and strong. I love iron." She moved her arm
caressingly upon the railing. "I love its cool, smooth touch. Any
strong life must have iron in it. I like iron in men."

She leaned a very little closer to him.

"Have you iron in you, Mr. Corliss?" she asked.

At these words the frayed edge of Hedrick's broad white collar was
lifted perceptibly from his coat, as if by a shudder passing over
the back and shoulders beneath.

"If I have not," answered Corliss in a low voice, "I will
have--now!"

"Tell me about yourself," she said.

"Dear lady," he began--and it was an effective beginning, for a
sigh of pleasure parted her lips as he spoke--"there is nothing
interesting to tell. I have spent a very commonplace life."

"I think not. You shouldn't call any life commonplace that has
escaped _this_!" The lovely voice was all the richer for the pain
that shook it now. "This monotony, this unending desert of ashes,
this death in life!"

"This town, you mean?"

"This prison, I mean! Everything. Tell me what lies outside of it.
You can."

"What makes you think I can?"

"I don't need to answer that. You understand perfectly."

Valentine Corliss drew in his breath with a sound murmurous of
delight, and for a time they did not speak.

"Yes," he said, finally, "I think I do."

"There are meetings in the desert," he went on, slowly. "A lonely
traveller finds another at a spring, sometimes."

"And sometimes they find that they speak the same language?"

His answer came, almost in a whisper:

"`Even as you and I.'"

"`Even as you and I,'" she echoed, even more faintly.

"Yes."

Cora breathed rapidly in the silence that followed; she had every
appearance of a woman deeply and mysteriously stirred. Her
companion watched her keenly in the dusk, and whatever the
reciprocal symptoms of emotion he may have exhibited, they were
far from tumultuous, bearing more likeness to the quiet
satisfaction of a good card-player taking what may prove to be a
decisive trick.

After a time she leaned back in her chair again, and began to fan
herself slo