nature, colorless, apparently, yet capable of strange and rapid
changes. Just now the last glow of sunlight seemed to have found a
skein of gold in her hair, a queer gleam of light in her eyes. She
stood there looking at the man whom she had come to visit.

"Julien," she said, "I wanted a few words with you."

It was impossible for him to remain altogether unmoved. Whatever else
might be the truth, she had risked most of the things that were dear to
her in life by this visit.

"Mrs. Carraby," he declared, "I am entirely at your service. If you
think that any useful purpose can be served by words between you and
me, I would only point out, for your own sake, that your visit is, to
say the least of it, unwise. These are bachelor chambers."

"You know very well," she replied calmly, "that it was my only chance
of speaking with you. If I had sent for you, you would not have come.
If I had spoken to you in the street, you would have passed me
by--quite rightly. This was my only chance. That is why I have come to
you."

"If you think it worth the risk," he remarked gravely, "pray continue."

She shrugged her shoulders very slightly.

"Who can tell what is worth the risk?"

"You have at least excited my curiosity," he admitted, leaning a little
towards her. "I cannot conceive what it is that you want to say to me."