’ She sipped at the liquid in her glass, but her eyes remained fixed, rather unnervingly, on Gerald. Her stifled misery had betrayed her. He wished he had the time to solve this riddle, for it was a riddle, and four-square besides. In twenty minutes we meet in the hall, remember. This—all this swamps them. “A confusion of motives—that’s what I am!. “And by what right do you do anything of the sort?” “No right at all,” he admitted. To-night the subtle suggestiveness of those few daring lines, fascinating in their very simplicity, the head thrown back, the half-closed eyes—the inner meaning of the great artist seemed to come to him with a rush. ’ A sudden thought brought a frown to her brow. He was never known to err, and was as much dreaded as the jailfever in consequence. He had more time for her. "Where am I?" she cried, passing her hand across her brow.
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