much." But such a gleam of those dark, dangerous eyes! I looked down,
but my breath came quickly and my face must have shown the agitation
that I felt.

At this moment Richard, released from his engagement in the library,
came through the hall and stopped at the dining-room door. He paused for
a moment at the door, walked away again, then came back and into the
room, with rather a quicker step than usual.

"Pauline," he said, and I started visibly, "They seem to be waiting for
you in the parlor for a game of cards."

His voice indicated anything but satisfaction. I half rose, then sank
back, and said, hesitatingly, "Can I pour you some more tea, Mr.
Langenau?"

"If it is not troubling you too much," he said in a voice that a
moment's time had hardened into sharpness.

Oh, the misery of that cup of tea, with Richard looking at me on one
side flushed and angry, and Mr. Langenau on the other, pale and cynical.
My hands shook so that I could not lift the teakettle, and Richard
angrily leaned down and moved it for me. The alcohol in the lamp flamed
up and scorched my arm.

"Oh Richard, you have burned me," I cried, dropping the cup and wrapping
my handkerchief around my arm. In an instant he was all softness and
kindness, and, I have no doubt, repentance.

"I am very sorry," he said; "Does it hurt you very much? Come with me,