Darrow continued to stand by the door after it had closed.

　　Anna felt that he was looking at her, and sat still,disdaining to seek refuge in any evasive word or movement.

　　For the last time she wanted to let him take from her thefulness of what the sight of her could give.

　　He crossed over and sat down on the sofa. For a momentneither of them spoke; then he said: "To-night, dearest, Imust have my answer."She straightened herself under the shock of his seeming totake the very words from her lips.

　　"To-night?" was all that she could falter.

　　"I must be off by the early train. There won't be more thana moment in the morning."He had taken her hand, and she said to herself that she mustfree it before she could go on with what she had to say.

　　Then she rejected this concession to a weakness she wasresolved to defy. To the end she would leave her hand inhis hand, her eyes in his eyes: she would not, in theirfinal hour together, be afraid of any part of her love forhim.

　　"You'll tell me to-night, dear," he insisted gently; and hisinsistence gave her the strength to speak.

　　"There's something I must ask you," she broke out,perceiving, as she heard her words, that they were not inthe least what she had meant to say.

　　He sat still, waiting, and she pressed on: "Do such thingshappen to men often?"The quiet room seemed to resound with the longreverberations of her question. She looked away from him,and he released her and stood up.

　　"I don't know what happens to other men. Such a thing neverhappened to me..."She turned her eyes back to his face. She felt like atraveller on a giddy path between a cliff and a precipice:

　　there was nothing for it now but to go on.

　　"Had it...had it begun...before you met her in Paris?""No; a thousand times no! I've told you the facts as theywere.""All the facts?"He turned abruptly. "What do you mean?"Her throat was dry and the loud pulses drummed in hertemples.

　　"I mean--about her...Perhaps you knew...knew things abouther...beforehand."She stopped. The room had grown profoundly still. A logdropped to the hearth and broke there in a hissing shower.

　　Darrow spoke in a clear voice. "I knew nothing, absolutelynothing," he said.

　　She had the answer to her inmost doubt--to her last shamefulunavowed hope. She sat powerless under her woe.

　　He walked to the fireplace and pushed back the broken logwith his foot. A flame shot out of it, and in the upwardglare she saw his pale face, stern with misery.

　　"Is that all?" he asked.

　　She made a slight sign with her head and he came slowly backto her. "Then is this to be good-bye?"Again she signed a faint assent, and he made no effort totouch her or draw nearer. "You understand that I sha'n'tcome back?"He was looking at her, and she tried to return his look, buther eyes were blind with tears, and in dread of his seeingthem she got up and walked away. He did not follow her, andshe stood with her back to him, staring at a bowl ofcarnations on a little table strewn with books. Her tearsmagnified everything she looked at, and the streaked petalsof the carnations, their fringed edges and frail curledstamens, pressed upon her, huge and vivid. She noticedamong the books a volume of verse he had sent her fromEngland, and tried to remember whether it was before orafter...

　　She felt that he was waiting for her to speak, and at lastshe turned to him. "I shall see you to-morrow before yougo..."He made no answer.

　　She moved toward the door and he held it open for her. Shesaw his hand on the door, and his seal ring in its settingof twisted silver; and the sense of the end of all thingscame to her.

　　They walked down the drawing-rooms, between the shadowyreflections of screens and cabinets, and mounted the stairsside by side. At the............