Frost gurgled a fiendish laugh: “I know you are jealous, but do not be hasty; I can prove what I say.” “Then, sir, you will have to do it, and if you have lied, look sharp, for a day of reckoning will surely come.” “She is at my studio every Friday at three o’clock. You know which window looks in upon my private apartments; watch that, and you will see her pass. Remember the time.” “That will do,” returned Marrion, coldly, as he arose to leave. At that moment his attention was attracted toward the banquet scene. Milburn had been called upon for a speech. As a general thing he was a man of a few words, but when he was inspired there was no more eloquent talker than he. He made an individual mention of those who had substantially aided in this distinction he had attained. Marrion listened, hoping that he would kindly speak his name, but what a tumult within stirred him to pathetic, unspoken appeal, as the speech ended without the slightest reference to his model. As the enthusiastic friends thronged about him, Marrion could not help showing that he rejoiced with them. His unexpected appearance in their midst created a decided sensation. He extended his hand warmly to Robert, and said most cordially: “Let me congratulate you, too.” With a look of intense loathing the artist waved him away, and folding his arms said coldly: “Excuse me, sir.” Some one of the party whispered: “Don’t mind that, Latham; Milburn has imbibed a little too freely.” CHAPTER XXX. SHADOWING HER. It had been some months since Cherokee and Marrion had met. But he still loved and was guarding her reputation. The little bit of treachery, villainy, or whatever Frost might have meant, he proposed to see through. It was an awful day, that Friday, rain had been falling since early morning. But nestling his beardless chin into the broad collar of his storm coat, he walked the opposite side of the street from the studio of Willard Frost. In breathless amazement, he saw a woman pass by the very window. She walked back and forth a time or two, and then she and Frost stood together. The gown was violet, with gold trimmings; he had seen Cherokee wear a dress like that; but he felt there must be some mistake, or everyone is of dual existence. By this one woman he measured the goodness of the world; if there was no truth in her, then it followed with him that there was no truth in the world. When the woman, heavily veiled and warmly wrapped, came down the step and turned down the street, he followed her. All that had passed was like a dim bewildering vision. All that he saw in the streets of the city--the faces he beheld--all was like a monstrous nightmare. It did not seem that anything was real. He still shadowed the woman who went directly to the elevated train, and when they came to the station where he knew Milburn got off, he anxiously watched the woman.