against this girl, who had been guilty of nothing but loving him too
deeply stood out, stripped of its trappings of sentiment, in all its
foul selfishness. He would right the wrong, confess to her; but no, he
dare not, she was not the kind of woman to condone such an offense.

"Needles and pins, needles and pins, when a man's married his trouble
begins," quoted Anna gayly, slipping up behind him and, putting her
arms about his neck; "one would think the old nursery ballad was true,
to look at you, Lennox Sanderson. I never saw such a married-man
expression before in my life. You wanted to know why I fell in love
with you. I could not help it, because you are YOU."

She nestled her head in his shoulder and he forgot his scruples in the
sorcery of her presence.

"Darling," he said; taking her in his arms, with perhaps the most
genuine affection he ever felt for her, "I wish we could spend our
lives here in this quiet little place, and that there were no
troublesome relations or outside world demanding us."

"So do I, dear," she answered, "but it could not last; we are too
perfectly happy."

Neither spoke for some minutes. At that time he loved her as deeply as
it was possible for him to love anyone. Again the impulse came to tell
her, beg for forgiveness and make reparation. He was holding her in
his arms, considering. A moment more, and he would have given way to
the only unselfish impulse in his life. But again the knock, followed
by the discreet cough of the proprietor. And when he entered to tell
them that the horses were ready for their drive, "Mrs. Lennox" hastened