pardonable vanity, roused passion from its slumbers and once again wrought in Ernest’s soul the miracle of love. His arm encircled her neck and his lips stammered blind, sweet, crazy and caressing things.

“Turn on the light,” she pleaded.

“You were not always so cruel.”

“No matter, I have not come to speak of love.”

“Why, then, have you come?”

Ernest felt a little awkward, disappointed, as he uttered these words.

What could have induced her to come to his rooms? He loosened his hold on her and did as she asked.

How pale she looked in the light, how beautiful!