Just before dawn he lay down and fell asleep, dreaming of Kate. The battle between the flesh and the spirit had ended. He slept until noon, ate a hasty breakfast, called at the Ransom house a moment, and hurried to his home. His wife had read the morning papers with increasing amazement at the sensation created, and a sense of impending tragedy began to crush her. For hours she had been walking back and forth from her window watching for his approach, until now she dreaded to see him. At the sound of his footstep she recalled the fact that she was the judge and he the culprit in the scene to be enacted. She had demanded an explanation of the meaning of the meeting with this woman, and she would have it. If his excuse were good she would be generous in her love and beg him to begin once more their old life, even if she threw the last shred of pride to the winds and made herself his veriest slave. And yet her heart misgave her. She felt herself lost and ruined before the battle began, but determined to play her part bravely. She watched him over the banisters as he stepped into the hall and greeted the children with unusual tenderness. He took Lucy's little form up and placed her arms around his neck. "Now hug me long, and hard, and kiss me sweet," he whispered. The child squeezed his neck and, placing her hands on his cheeks, softly kissed his lips and eyes as she had often seen her mother do. He ran his hand gently through her brown curls that seemed a perfect mixture of her mother's and his own, and Ruth thought his hand trembled as he kissed her again. "I never saw you quite so beautiful, my baby, as this morning," he said, as he placed her on the floor. When he entered the room upstairs Ruth had recovered her composure and stood waiting, her petite figure drawn to its full height, her anxious face unusually thin, her eyes, set in the dark rings of a sleepless night, looking blacker and stormier than ever in the shadows of her disheveled hair. "Sorry I could not come sooner, Ruth," he began, with evident embarrassment. "But I did not get to sleep until just before day, and I was so exhausted I slept until noon." "Let us waste no words," said the soft, round voice. "I have waited long; I am waiting still for ycur explanation. Why was that woman in your study alone with you last night at half-past ten o'clock?" "You wish to know the whole truth?" "I demand it." "Very well," he replied deliberately. "The immediate reason is a secret of great importance, I must ask you to guard it sacredly." "I've kept a dark one in my soul. You have had no cause to complain." "The morning papers are full of wild speculation as to the millionaire who gave that immense sum to build the Temple. Miss Ransom gave the money." "Impossible!" she gasped.