hope were to be its end?




CHAPTER VII

THE COUNTESS DE SANTIAGO


"You don't wish to tell me the name?" Ruthven Smith was saying.

The repetition irritated the girl, whose nerves were strained to snapping
point. She could not parry the man's questions. She could not bear his
grieved or offended reproaches. If he persisted, through these moments of
suspense, she would scream or burst out crying. Trembling, with tears in
her voice, she heard herself answer. And yet it did not seem to be
herself, but something within, stronger than she, that suddenly took
control of her.

"Why should I not wish to tell you?" the Something was saying. "The name
is the same as your own--Smith. Nelson Smith." And before the words had
left her lips a taxi drew up at the door.

There was one instant of agony during which the previous suspense seemed
nothing--an instant when the girl forgot what she had said, her soul
pressing to the windows of her eyes. Was it he who had come, or----

It was he. Before she had time to finish the thought, he walked in,
confident and smiling as when she had left him a few minutes--or a few