with her own failing health, had robbed her of the beautiful color he
had always so frankly admired. Her eyes were big and hollow looking,
and the deep black circles about them only added to her unearthly
appearance. There were drawn lines of pain about the mouth, that
robbed the Cupid's bow of half its beauty.

"My God, Anna!" he had said to her impatiently. "A man might as well
try to love a corpse as a woman who looks like that." He led her over
to a mirror, that she might see her wasted charms. There was no need
for her to look. She knew well enough, what was reflected there.

"You have no right to let yourself get like this. The only thing a
woman has is her looks, and it is a crime if she throws them away
worrying and fretting."

"But Lennox," she answered, desperately, "I have told you how matters
stand with me, and mother knows nothing--suspects nothing." And the
girl broke down and wept as if her heart would break.

"Anna, for Heaven's sake, do stop crying. I hate a scene worse than
anything in the world. When a woman cries, it means but one thing, and
that is that the man must give in--and in this particular instance I
can't give in. It would ruin me with the governor to acknowledge our
marriage."

The girl's tears froze at his brutal words. She looked about dazed and
hopeless.

Sanderson was standing by the window, drumming a tattoo on the pane.
He wheeled about, and said slowly, as if he were feeling his way: