"_Alhamdolillah_--Glory to God!" ejaculated the old woman, but
cautiously under her breath. "Come quickly--he is here--thy father!
And thou in the garden, at this hour.... But come," and urgently she
gripped the girl's wrist as if afraid that she would vanish again
into the shadows of the shrubbery.

Aimée felt her knees quake under her. "My father!" she murmured,
and her voice died in her throat.

Had he discovered? Had some one seen her slip out? Or recognized her
at the ball?

The panic-stricken conjectures surged through her in dismaying
confusion. She tried to beat down her fear, to think quickly, to
rally her force, but her swimming senses were still invaded with the
surprise of those last moments at the gate, her heart still beating
with the touch of Ryder's arms about her ... of that long, deep look
... that kiss, beyond all else, that kiss....

Little rivers of fire were running through her veins. Shame and
proud anger set up their swift reactions. Oh, what wings of wild,
incredible folly had brought her to this! To be kissed like--like a
dancing girl--by a man, an unknown, an American!

How could he, how could he! After all his kindness--to hold her so
lightly.... And yet there had been no lightness in his eyes, those
eager, shining young eyes, so gravely concerned....

But she could not stop to think of this thing. Her father was