Mr. ’ *** It must have been fate, Gerald decided, near an hour later, staring intently at the closed French windows on the raised alcove that led out to the terrace. "Ah!" ejaculated Mrs. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. As soon as dinner was over she went into the kitchen and devoted herself to compiling a tray—not a tray merely of halfcooled dinner things, but a specially prepared “nice” tray, suitable for tempting any one. Between herself and yonder evil mind she had the strongest buckler God could give—love. ’ ‘Oh, peste,’ exclaimed Melusine, and louder, ‘Where are you? Call, that I may find you.
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