walk with him.

They passed the house of Dr. von Stein, from which came a faint
humming that sounded like a dynamo. Across the street the church was
alight for some service. Triumphant music drifted to them. The moon
hung above the spire, with its cross outlined darkly against the
brilliant sky. The windows were great jewels. Betty drew a deep
breath.

"Sometimes, Allen," she said, "I feel like praying!"

"You _are_ a beautiful prayer," whispered Parker.

She walked close to him, holding his arm, and repeated softly:

"Are not two prayers a perfect strength?
And shall I feel afraid?"

But that was the end of that mood. By the time they arrived home Betty
was again the strange, aloof, cold, slightly hard woman of the past
few days. Again depression settled upon Allen Parker.

* * * * *

The next morning he breakfasted alone and went directly to the studio,
without seeing Betty. Sun streamed into the room; the pencil moved
swiftly. For a brief time Parker thought that he was himself again, as
Madelon grew upon the block of paper. But the end was terrible. The
last few strokes made her grotesque. This time the woman he had drawn
was not merely evil; she was a mocking parody of his heroine. He threw
drawing and pencil across the room.

But no real artist can be discouraged short of death. He went to work
again and labored until luncheon time. The results were no better,
although they varied. Now it seemed that some malevolent power was
playing with him, torturing him to the accompaniment of devilish
laughter. He was haggard and actually stooped of body when he bathed
his face and went down to the dining room. From across the table Betty
regarded him curiously.

"Fleming Proctor shot himself last night," she announced, calmly.
"This morning they found him dead in his office."

"Proctor? You don't mean the president of the Pine Hills National
Bank?"

"Yes." The expression of Betty's face did not change. "There was a
note saying that he was sorry. It seems he'd made a large loan without
security to an unknown person, and the bank examiner was coming
to-day. Proctor said he couldn't help what he did. The note was
confused as though he were trying to tell something and couldn't. They
think his mind must have given way, particularly as they can't trace
the loan, although the money is undoubtedly gone."

* * * * *

"That kind of thing does