e desire to creep, for as many hours as possible out of
the twenty-four, into the only refuge left to him. In his bed he was
comparatively safe, not from the law, which he no longer had to fear,
but from intrusion and inspection, and, above all, from sympathy.

It was between nine and ten o'clock. The blinds were up, the windows
open, and the sunshine was streaming in. A tray with his scarcely
tasted breakfast on it stood beside the bed. Guion lay on his back, his
head sunk deep into the pillows. Though his face was turned from the
door and his eyes closed, Olivia knew he was not sleeping. After
performing small tasks in the room, carrying the breakfast tray into the
hall, and lowering the blinds, she sat down at the bedside.

"Papa, darling."

As he turned his head slowly she thought his eyes had the look of mortal
ennui that Rembrandt depicts in those of Lazarus rising from the tomb
and coming back to life.

She delivered her message, to which he replied, "He can come."

"I think I ought to tell you," she continued, "what he's coming for."

She gave him the gist of her conversation with Ashley on the previous
day and the one great decision to which they had led him up. It would
have gratified Ashley, could he have overheard, to note the skill with
which she conveyed precisely that quality of noble precipitancy in his
words and resolutions which he himself feared they had lacked. If a
slight suspicion could have risen in his mind, it would have been that
of a certain haste on her part to forestall any possible questioning of
his eagerness such as he had occasion to observe in himself. That might
have wounded him.

"So he wants to go ahead," Guion said, when she had finished.

"Apparently."

"Can't he do that and still leave things as they are?"

"He seems to think he can't."

"I don't see why. If I have to owe the money to any one, I'd rather owe
it to Davenant."

"So should I."

"Do you really want to marry him?"

The question startled her. "Marry him? Who?"

There was a look almost of humor in Guion's forlorn eyes. "Well, I
didn't mean Davenant. I didn't suppose there was any--"

"Papa, darling," she hastened to say, "as things are at present I'd
rather not marry any one at all. There's so much for me to do in getting
life on another footing for us both that marriage seems to belong to
another kind of world."

He raised himself on his elbow, turning toward her. "Then why don't you
tell him so?"