“It’s not generosity—perhaps only curiosity,” he said. “Gloria and I have been such good friends—and I am tremendously fond of her. She is so beautiful and charming and talented, but just now I think she needs something, some one, bigger than her work.” They had reached home, Ruth in a state of exalted pain and happiness. Terry loved Gloria; that was evident, but for some reason he did not hope to win her. With noble generosity he was hoping only for Gloria’s happiness—planning to bring her and Professor Pendragon together. Somehow it seemed that she and Terry were sharing sacrifice—he his love for Gloria, she her love for him. It gave her a feeling of sweet comradeship with him, that almost compensated for the pain of knowing that he did not love her. Perhaps behind her thoughts too there was the faint hope that if Gloria went back to her first husband, Terry might change the object of his affections, but this thought was only half defined, for at nineteen the idea of a man loving twice is very inartistic. To Ruth all real love was of the _Abelard and Heloise, Paul and Virginia_ type. Thus she thought in silence while Terry waited for her to unlock the door. The door opened to her key and she turned to say good-night to him, when her nostrils caught the overpowering perfume of some strange incense, and in the hall she saw the same blue haze that she had seen that night when she found Amy on the stairs. Terry, too, had smelled the incense, and paused, looking at her for explanation. Her heart was beating at a tremendous rate. Here was the opportunity that she had been seeking to secure an unbiased witness. She put her finger to her lips in sign of silence, as Amy had done that night, and drew him with her into the hall. Then she closed the door silently behind them. Without knowing why he imitated her example in silence. Inside the hall was heavy with the blue smoke and the perfume that seemed to be smothering them. “Now I can show you why I want Gloria to send George away. He’s downstairs now, I think,” she was speaking in a low whisper. “I want you to see for yourself. I haven’t dared to tell any one for fear they wouldn’t believe. He’s down there,” she pointed. “Don’t knock or let him know you’re coming—I want you to see everything. Perhaps—I know it sounds a terrible thing to do, but if you could just look through the keyhole—” She stopped abruptly, seeing Terry’s look of amazement at such a request. “Believe me—it is better to do that—just look once and you’ll understand.” She moved toward the rear of the house, tiptoeing noiselessly and beckoning him to follow. At the top of the short flight of steps she stopped again. “Down there, behind that door,” she whispered.