“A waiter is here to take up your bag and show you to your room. Will you go now, and will you have some tea, or whatever you prefer, sent up to you?” She did not answer by one word, but, shuddering, arose, peeped through a fold of her veil, and, seeing the waiter at the door, walked towards him. The man nodded, and led the way to a small suite of rooms on the same floor, consisting of a little parlor, chamber and bath-room. He opened these and put down the bags, and then struck a match and set fire to the kindlings already piled in the grates ready for ignition. Having performed these duties he turned to the lady and inquired: “Any more orders, madam?” “Madam!” echoed the girl, with bitter scorn, though in so low a tone that the word was nearly inaudible. “No, I want nothing; but, yes, you may bring me a cup of tea. My throat is as parched as a desert.” The waiter nodded and went out. “Now, what have I done!” exclaimed Gloria, as she tore off her gloves, her hat, and her sack, and threw them angrily on the bed. “Now, what have I done! Oh, Marcel! I will never, never, no, NEVER forgive you for driving me to this pass! Oh! how I hate you! How I hate you for this, Marcel! And I hate David Lindsay! And I hate myself worse than all! My odious self! I hate everybody! And I wish everybody was dead! I do!” she cried, flinging herself down on the floor, and rolling and crying like a passionate child. It is of no use to repeat all her ravings. David Lindsay was more than half right in his surmises, and Gloria was really more than half insane. She was still rolling and crying on the carpet, when the shuffling steps of the waiter approaching the door, caused her to start up in time to answer his knock. She placed herself behind the door, opened it, put out her hand and took the little tea-tray, without showing her own tear-stained face. She drank the tea with eager thirst, and then sat down the empty cup and threw herself on the sofa. “The cup that cheers,” and so forth, seemed to do her good, and perhaps her fit of hysterical weeping had temporarily exhausted itself, for she wept and raved no more, but lay, with her hands clasped over her face, in perfect stillness. An hour later there was a knock at her door. She started up and opened it, and David Lindsay entered the room. She recoiled to the farthest corner, and sat down and hid her head over the back of the chair. “Do not shrink from me. Indeed I will not intrude my presence on you more than is absolutely necessary,” he began, in low and deprecating tones. But she shuddered and shrank into herself, more fearfully than ever. He sat down at some little distance from her, sighed heavily, because he could not help doing so, drew out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead, which was beaded with a cold moisture, and paler now than it had ever been in his life before.