which the value of her own desirable self and of her very desirable
fortune was not lost; then it became the pride of a wife in whom the
spirit of the eternal woman was working; and she would have died rather
than have sought to find him. Five years--and not a word from him.

Five years--and not a letter from him! Her eyes involuntarily fell on
the high desk with the greenbaize top. Of all the letters he had written
at that desk not one had been addressed to her. Slowly, and with an
unintentional solemnity, she went up to it and laid a hand upon it. Her
chin only cleared the edge of it-he was a tall man, her husband.

"This is the place of secrets, I suppose?" she said, with a bright smile
and an attempt at gaiety to Kitty, who had watched her with burning eyes;
for she had felt the thrill of the moment. She was as sensitive to
atmosphere of this sad play of life as nearly and as vitally as the
deserted wife.

"I shouldn't think it a place of secrets," Kitty answered after a moment.
"He seldom locks it, and when he does I know where the key is."

"Indeed?" Mona Crozier stiffened. A look of reproach came into her
eyes. It was as though she was looking down from a great height upon a
poor creature who did not know the first rudiments of personal honour,
the fine elemental customs of life.

Kitty saw and understood, but she did not hasten to reply, or to set
things right. She met the lofty look unflinchingly, and she had pride
and some little malice too--it would do Mrs. Crozier good, she thought--
in saying, as she looked down on the humming-bird trying to be an eagle: