the first things I attend to."

She came over to his side, resting her hand on his arm. "You don't
want me, John?" Her voice was soft and caressing, her hand rested
like a lure. "If I told you I had made a mistake? If I told you
that I was very unhappy? - and I am. And I did make a mistake."

Fear began to grow on Messner. He felt himself wilting under the
lightly laid hand. The situation was slipping away from him, all
his beautiful calmness was going. She looked at him with melting
eyes, and he, too, seemed all dew and melting. He felt himself on
the edge of an abyss, powerless to withstand the force that was
drawing him over.

"I am coming back to you, John. I am coming back to-day . . .
now."

As in a nightmare, he strove under the hand. While she talked, he
seemed to hear, rippling softly, the song of the Lorelei. It was
as though, somewhere, a piano were playing and the actual notes
were impinging on his ear-drums.

Suddenly he sprang to his feet, thrust her from him as her arms
attempted to clasp him, and retreated backward to the door. He was
in a panic.

"I'll do something desperate!" he cried.

"I warned you not to get excited." She laughed mockingly, and went
about washing the dishes. "Nobody wants you. I was just playing