eve that I am an unwelcome guest this evening,"
replied Glenning. "Be pleased to tell Major Dudley that I inquired
after his health, and know that I am always at your service."

He bowed low, and without offering his hand in farewell--she making no
sign to give him hers--he went out.

Julia stood where he had so ceremoniously left her, amazement and anger
uniting on her face. Then tears began to race down her checks, and she
flew to the old sofa in the library to cry it out in the dark. She had
not counted on this. He was cruel; he cared nothing for her, as he had
led her to believe he did. When she went upstairs in response to her
father's ring, she felt that she had never been so totally miserable in
her life before.

CHAPTER XIV

When Glenning reached the highway he did not go towards town, but turned
in the opposite direction. He had a wild craving for solitude. He wanted
to be away from everyone, to be alone in the night with his thoughts.
These were not pleasant. His reception by Julia had been more severe
than he had even anticipated. He did not believe that her conduct
towards him reflected her true feelings, but how was he to know! She had
been an iceberg that night; she had assumed a role of which he had not
deemed her capable. That low-browed man in the lonely house was
responsible. Would he win after all? Had his poisoned lies really done
their work, and robbed him of the one perfect thing which he had grown
to love with a fierce intensity? He stopped short, and was tempted to go
back, and demand an explanation. Should he permit himself to be
discouraged thus easily; should he lose her for no other reason than
that she had been cold and proud to him? He could not go back tonight.
Her heart was hardened against him, of that he was sure. He would let a
few days pass and try again, and if she sent him away that would be the
end. He resumed his swift walking, on and on, up hill and down,
unconscious of any fatigue. He met no one. When he finally came to a
halt on a small bridge he realized that his surroundings were
unfamiliar, and that he was several miles from town. He was in no hurry
to return. He filled his pipe and fell to smoking, watching the
starlight dimpling on the ripples of the tiny stream which flowed under
the bridge. In some moods this would have soothed him, but tonight it
served as an irritant. He was at war with himself, and the gentle
harmonies of Nature fretted by their very peace