it. We are both a little
hysterical this evening. We've lost our sense of proportion. You've
played for your stake. You mustn't quail; if the worst should come, you
must brave it out. I believe, even then, you would be safe. But it won't
come--it shan't!"

He gripped her hands. They were slowing up now, caught in a maze of heavy
traffic a few blocks from the theatre. His voice was firm. He had
regained his self-control.

"What an idiot I have been!" he exclaimed scornfully. "Never mind, that's
past. There is just one more serious word, though, dear."

She responded immediately to the change in his manner, and smiled into
his face.

"Well?"

"My only real problem," he went on earnestly, "is this. Dare I hold you
to your word, Elizabeth? Dare I, for instance, say 'yes' to the wonderful
suggestion of yours?--make you my wife and risk having people look at you
in years to come, point at you with pity and say that you married a
murderer who died a shameful death! Fancy how the tragedy of that would
lie across your life--you who are so wonderful and so courted and so
clever!"

"Isn't that my affair, Philip?" she asked calmly.

"No," he answered, "it's mine!"

She turned and laughed at him. For a moment she was her old self again.

"You refuse me?"

His eyes glowed.

"We'll wait," he said hoarsely, "till Dane comes back from England!"

The car had stopped outside the theatre. Hat in hand, and with his face
wreathed in smiles, the commissionaire had thrown open the door. The
people on the pavement were nudging one another--a famous woman was about
to descend. She turned back to Philip.

"Come in with me," she begged. "Somehow, I feel cold and lonely to-night.
It hasn't anything to do with what we were talking about, but I feel as
though something were going to happen, that something were coming out of
the shadows, something that threatens either you or me. I'm silly, but
come."

She clung to him as they crossed the pavement. For once she forgot to
smile at the little curious crowd. She was absorbed in herself and her
feelings.

"Life is so hard sometimes!" she exclaimed, as they lingered for a moment
near the box office. "There's that poor girl, Philip, friendless and
lonely. What she must suffer! God help her--God help us all! I am sick
with loneliness myself, Philip. Don't leave me alone. Come with me to my
room. I only want to see if there are any letters. We'll go somewhere
near and dine first, before