"My fault," declared Io feverishly. "He told me once that if ever I
played anything but fair with him, he'd go to the devil the quickest way
he could."

"Then he's a coward," pronounced Miss Van Arsdale vigorously.

"What am I? I didn't play fair with him. I practically jilted him
without even letting him know why."

Miss Van Arsdale frowned. "Didn't you send him word?"

"Yes. I telegraphed him. I told him I'd write and explain. I haven't
written. How could I explain? What was there to say? But I ought to have
said something. Oh, Miss Van Arsdale, why didn't I write!"

"But you did intend to go on and face him and have it out. You told me
that."

A faint tinge of color relieved the white rigidity of Io's face. "Yes,"
she agreed. "I did mean it. Now it's too late and I'm disgraced."

"Don't be melodramatic. And don't waste yourself in self-pity. To-morrow
you'll see things clearer, after you've slept."

"Sleep? I couldn't." She pressed both hands to her temples, lifting
tragic and lustrous eyes to her companion. "I think my head is going to
burst from trying not to think."

After some hesitancy Miss Van Arsdale went to a wall-cabinet, took out a
phial, shook into her hand two little pellets, and returned the phial,