"Excuse me, Mrs. Wells," he said. "I could not help reading a few words. Won't you go on with your confession--please do. It sounds so wonderfully interesting. See--there--at the bottom!" He pointed to the lines. "Oh!" she murmured as she saw the writing, and two spots of color burned in her cheeks. "Let me have it--I insist!" "Certainly. But do read it to us. This is a real human interest story. _'Let me bow my head in shame and humble my spirit in the dust'_--wasn't that it?" laughed Kendall maliciously. At this, seeing the frightened look in Penelope's eyes, Captain Herrick stormed in: "You had no right to read those words or repeat them." "I am sorry, Mrs. Wells. I meant no offense," apologized the poet, realizing that he had gone too far, but the harm was done. Something unaccountably serious had happened to Penelope Wells. Her face had gone deathly white, and Roberta, suddenly sympathetic, hastened to her. "It's a shame to tease you, dearie. No more confession stuff. Now, folks, we'll have supper--down in the restaurant. Then we'll dance. Come on! Feeling better, Pen? What you need is a cocktail and some champagne." But Penelope lay like a stricken creature, her beautiful head limp against the pillow of her chair, her eyes filled with pain. "I--I'll be all right in a minute, Bobby," she whispered. "Please go down now--all of you except Captain Herrick. We'll join you--a little later. You don't mind?" she turned to Herrick who was bending over her anxiously. Then she said softly: "Don't leave me, Chris. I don't feel quite like myself. I'm a little frightened." CHAPTER X FAUVETTE Thus it happened that Penelope and Captain Herrick did not descend to the flower-spread supper room where dancing and good cheer awaited the gay company, but remained in Roberta's black and gold apartment, two lovers swept along by powers of fate far beyond their control, and now facing the greatest emotional moment of their lives. The catastrophe came gradually, yet at the end with startling suddenness. At first, when they were alone, Penelope seemed to recover from her distress and began to talk naturally and serenely, as if her preceding agitations were forgotten. She told Christopher that Dr. Owen's wise counsels had reassured her, and she now felt confident that her bad dreams and other disturbing symptoms would soon leave her. "You see something has conquered all my sadness, all my fears," she looked at him shyly. For a moment he sat motionless, drinking in her splendid beauty, then he leaned towards her impulsively and spoke one word that carried all the devotion of his soul: "Penelope!" "Dear boy!" she murmured, her voice thrilling, and a moment later he had clasped her in his arms. "You're mine! You love me! Thank God!"