the cords she had been winding about the man by her side began slowly to tighten around her own throat.
He tried to leave her at the door, but she drew him inside.
"You can't go yet."
"I must hurry, my love," he protested. "Those men will think I'm a coward. I should have been at home when they called."
"Sh!"
She placed her hand over his lips, ignoring his plea.
"I've a little experiment to make. My whim is law. Go stand there in the alcove with your hat in your hand fumbling it."
Laughing with girlish excitement she pressed him into the exact spot he stood the night she first met him, drew back, and gazed tenderly into his face, her big brown eyes dancing with the hysterical strain of the deep half-conscious fear for his safety which had begun to strangle her.
"Have you forgotten the first scene in the drama of our life?" she asked, slowly approaching him with extended hand.
He clasped it with a smile.
"I shall not forget it if I live to be a hundred years old," he said reverently.
"And yet, you are trying to hurry away from me
