sulphur had been rubbed away into eternity.

"It's nip and tuck," he breathed, stifling an impulse to laugh. "Nip and
tuck!"

Pressing the match's diminished head firmly against the wood, he drew it
downward vigorously and long. There was a faint crackle, a little
splutter, and--glory of glories!--a tiny flame faltered out into the
darkness.

"Oh--_be careful_!"

Varney cupped his hand about the little flare, and for a moment ceased
to breathe. Then it caught more fully, and it was evident to both that
the victory was won.

He had meant to look instantly about for lamp or candle to light; but if
all his future happiness had hinged upon it, it seemed to him that he
could not have helped one glance at the lady who shared that shelter and
that match with him.

She stood a few feet away, regarding him breathlessly, hatted, gloved,
all in white, one hand resting lightly on the center-table, one folded
about the crook of a dainty draggled parasol. The match threw a small
and ghostly light, but he saw her, and she wore no veil.

"Why--why--I--"

"Oh, quick! There's a lamp just behind you."