"No. It was because I loved you. Jammery told me if I didn't he'd run a knife through your back in the lane some night, and I knew he would. You didn't know Jammery, darling. He was wicked. He'd done it before. Killed a man. And I didn't want you stabbed in the dark. So I went. Every word of this is true, Durek. As I went my tears splashed on the ground and I was sayin' all the while to myself—'poor Durek—poor baby!' And I sent Lottie Rain, and every night I cried in my sleep, and Jammery got to hate me and said he wished he'd never seen my face."
"Where is he now?"
"He's dead. I had to stay till he died. There was no one else to take care of him. He was sick even when he was here. With the consumption, you know. He got worse pretty soon. He'd think his pillow was you, Durek, and he'd kneel up in the bed and stab it with a pretend knife, and he couldn't kill it, so he died."
Derek made no comment, and, after a space of silence, she faltered, "Durek, may I open the shutter so's you can see how thin and tired I am?"
"If you wish."
She fumbled with the fastening, then the shutter swung open and revealed her as in a frame. She was indeed thin. Her cheeks had lost their childlike roundness, her breast was flat, her eyes beneath their pencilled brows looked very large and bright.
"May I come in and rest a little while, Durek," she asked, plaintively. "My poor little feet is blistered."
"Yes," he said, shortly. "You may go up to your old room. Go around by the front door."
"Will I close the shutter?"
"No. Leave it open."
Meekly she turned away. He heard the soft brush of
