of the past, and was about to ask the question. "Are you Chotu?" but the illusion vanished as quickly as it came, and ere I could speak he had crossed the room. A new realisation took hold of me. Was I going to love this man? I compared the weird fascination that Mr. Roy's song had had upon me with the feeling that now entered my heart, but I dared not yield. How could I be so capricious, so base indeed, as to forsake the man whom only a few days ago I had loved? Could I forget him who had vowed to me fidelity unto death for one whom I had never seen before, one who had come into my life only yesterday? Was it then true after all that I had never loved him, that I was deceiving him? If I had truly cared for him this incident in his life would have filled me with sorrow, with wounded pride, perhaps, but certainly never with anger, much less with the thought of forsaking him.
Yes, I had been wrong. I now thought I saw the truth clearly. I saw my fault, and my heart was filled with penitence. If I had been annoyed a while ago because my sister did not invite the doctor to come to the house again, I now was pleased because she
