"Oh, it would take a great deal to compromise me; though if Marsh ever
finds out that I have been here he'll be ready to kill me!" But she
still lingered, still seemed to invite.

North was silent.

"You must be in love, Jack! You see, I'll not grant that you are the
saint you'd have me think you! Yes, you are in love!" for he colored
angrily at her words. "Is it--"

He interrupted her harshly.

"Don't speak her name!"

"Then it is true! I'd heard that you were, but I did not believe it!
Yes, you are right, we must forget that I came here to-day."

While she was speaking she had moved toward the door, and instinctively
he had stepped past her to open it. When he turned with his hand on the
knob, it brought them again face to face. The smile had left her lips,
they were mere delicate lines of color. She raised herself on tiptoe and
her face, gray-white, was very close to his.

"What a fool you are, Jack, what a coward you must be!" and she struck
him on the cheek with her gloved hand. "You _are_ a coward!" she cried.

His face grew as white as her own, and he did not trust himself to
speak. She gave him a last contemptuous glance and drew her veil.

"Now open the door," she said insolently.