"All right!" said her daughter hurriedly. "Go on, mother!" She set to work in haste to add the finishing touches to her dress, fastening the little bar pin with diamonds given her by Mrs. Russell, drawing on her white kid gloves. She heard him coming. She heard him stop at the kitchen door, and tell the woman working in the kitchen that she might go. Then he came and knocked at her door. "Ready, Angelica?" he called out. She gave one glance in the mirror; then she opened the door with a forced, polite smile. There stood the poor soldier who wished to give her all he had--poor, ardent Eddie, longing so to take her back to his beloved home, and give it into her keeping. He stood in the doorway of her little room, looking at her, and he too was smiling--a smile as strained, as artificial as her own. "Angelica!" he said softly. He had grown quite pallid, as he did when deeply moved, and his hands clenched and unclenched nervously. His face, his expression, had changed. He was struggling his utmost to look, and to be, tender and respectful; but his heart was beating with an emotion neither tender nor respectful. He wiped his damp forehead, and came a step nearer, always smiling, but with eyes strangely brilliant and fixed. "No!" said Angelica sharply. She knew how he felt--she knew too well how he felt. It sickened and shamed her. "My darling girl!" said Eddie. "_My_ Angelica!" "Don’t!" she said. "_Don’t_ say that! I’m not!" "But you will be, very soon! I----” "We ought to go, Eddie. It’s late!" "Then kiss me, just once!" She shook her head with a ghastly affectation of coquetry. "No," she said. "You’ll have to wait!" "Just as you like, Angelica," said the poor fellow. "You know, don’t you, dear girl, that my chief wish in life is to make you happy? I wouldn’t for----” "Then do come on, or I’ll think you don’t want to marry me at all!" He turned instantly, and she followed him--just to the door of her room; but no farther. He looked back. "Aren’t you ready?" he asked. "Eddie!" she cried in a high, dreadful voice. "Eddie! _I can’t do it!_" "Can’t do what?" he asked, startled. "I can’t do it! I can’t marry you! Not unless I tell you!" He stared at her for an instant, his quick and clear mind at work upon this. "What is there to tell me?" he asked. "Let’s have it!" He was alert and suspicious now. "Come on! Let’s have it!" he repeated. "Eddie!" she began, but a great horror at her own folly assailed her. She felt impelled toward this abyss, while she struggled madly to turn aside, aghast at the destruction before her. Perhaps even now it wasn’t too late; perhaps she could disarm the suspicion that she had aroused, could stop, and not tell him any more. Thank God, it wasn’t too late! She _hadn’t_ told him. She felt like a person cutting his own throat--the knife had only pricked--he is still alive, and in a mad exultation of thankfulness. She smiled. "I--I got engaged to another fellow," she said; "but it’s all over now."