And she observed it and inferred what he meant, and her pulses beat a trifle faster, but beyond a smile, which she contrived to be half-puzzled, half-questioning, and wholly fascinating, she made no answer. She was lovelier now, he thought, than he had ever seen her. Her figure, in its clinging narrow evening gown, had rounded into the most adorable curves, though retaining all its youthful slenderness. Two years ago she had suggested what to-night she was--a glorious woman. And the flawless face, ordinarily so cold in its beauty, was soft and tender as he had never thought to see it. He bent over and deliberately looked her in the eyes--and she, from the recess of her chair, knowing that he would come no further, calmly looked him back. Neither spoke--yet the one told a purpose formed, and the other did not warn him to desist. "Do you realize just how lovely you are?" he asked. "Yes," she smiled. "I have my eyes and my mirrors--and an admiring maid." "But you haven't----" he began--and broke off. He was about to say "you haven't a husband to tell you." And she guessed his words instantly--but not his exact meaning. "'I haven't a husband to tell me,' you were going to say. Why didn't you say it? It would have been no more than the truth." "I was not thinking of Lorraine as the husband," he replied. She gave a little gasp of surprise at its unexpectedness--a gasp that ended, however, in a smile and a shake of the ruddy head. "Please give me a cigarette," she said, extending her hand. He drew out his case and offered it to her. "Is this all that I may give you now?" he asked. "All!" she replied, passing a match across the tip. "All--now.... What is it, Tompkins?" as the butler appeared in the doorway and bowed. "The telephone, madam!" monotoned Tompkins. "Did you get the name?" she asked. "The Homoeopathic Hospital, madam; they want to speak to you at once." "What can it be?" she exclaimed, turning to Pendleton. "Come into the living-room with me, Montague--I'm afraid of hospitals--dreadfully afraid--even by telephone." Pendleton arose and accompanied her. "It is nothing," he assured her. "I am Mrs. Lorraine," she said, when she reached the receiver. "What is it, please?" "This is the Hahnemann Hospital, Mrs. Lorraine," came the answer and Pendleton could hear it on the other side of the table. "Your husband was seriously injured this evening when his automobile collided with a street car. He was unconscious when brought in, but revived for a moment and has asked for you." She raised her eyes to Pendleton. He nodded that he had understood. "Is he conscious now?" she asked to gain time. Her mind was in a whirl.