that all mankind was enormously pitiful and injured, by the mere fact
of their obligatory existence. And he wished more than anything in
the world for some understanding soul with whom to share his sense of
the universal grievance.

But he continued to sit alone, and the cat slept in his golden coil
of peace. Then suddenly the cat sat up, and his jewel eyes glowed. He
looked fixedly at a point in the room. Von Rosen looked in the same
direction but saw nothing except his familiar wall. Then he heard
steps on the stairs, and the door opened, and Jane Riggs entered. She
was white and stern. She was tragic. Her lean fingers were clutching
at the air. Von Rosen stared at her. She sat down and swept her
crackling white apron over her head.




Chapter III


When Margaret Edes had returned home after the Zenith Club, she
devoted an hour to rest. She had ample time for that before dressing
for a dinner which she and her husband were to give in New York that
evening. The dinner was set for rather a late hour in order to enable
Margaret to secure this rest before the train-time. She lay on a
couch before the fire, in her room which was done in white and gold.
Her hair was perfectly arranged, for she had scarcely moved her head
during the club meeting, and had adjusted and removed her hat with
the utmost caution. Now she kept her shining head perfectly still
upon a rather hard pillow. She did not relax her head, but she did