"An hour. She fretted a good deal because you had not come. This afternoon she said she wished to drive, and I had the phaeton brought around; but when she saw it she changed her mind. I was rather afraid of an outburst--they come sometimes from less cause than that--so I did not urge her to go out. She played on the piano for a long while, and sang some songs--those curious native songs she learned in Manila. It seemed to soothe her; she played with her little trifles quite contentedly for a time, but soon began fretting again, and asking why you had not come. She had a bad hour later--she is quite exhausted now. Could you stay to-night, Captain Selwyn?" "Y-es, if you think it better. . . . Wait a moment; I think she has awakened." Alixe had turned her head, her lovely eyes wide open. "Phil!" she cried, "is it you?" He went forward and took the uplifted hands, smiling down at her. "Such a horrid dream!" she said pettishly, "about a soft, plump man with ever so many rings on his hands. . . . Oh, I am glad you came. . . . Look at this child of mine!" cuddling the staring wax doll closer; "she's not undressed yet, and it's long, long after bedtime. Hand me her night-clothes, Phil." The slim young nurse bent and disentangled a bit of lace and cambric from a heap on the floor, offering it to Selwyn. He laid it in the hand Alixe held out, and she began to undress the doll in her arms, prattling softly all the while: "Late--oh, so very, very late! I must be more careful of her, Phil; because, if you and I grow up, some day we may marry, and we ought to know all about children. It would be great fun, wouldn't it?" He nodded, forcing a smile. "Don't you think so?" she persisted. "Yes--yes, indeed," he said gently. She laughed, contented with his answer, and laid her lips against the painted face of the doll. "When we grow up, years from now--then we'll understand, won't we, Phil? . . . I am tired with playing. . . . And Phil--let me whisper something. Is that person gone?" He turned and signed to the nurse, who quietly withdrew. "Is she gone?" repeated Alixe. "Yes." "Then listen, Phil. Do you know what she and the other one are about all day? _I_ know; I pretend not to, but I know. They are watching me every moment--always watching me, because they want to make you believe that I am forgetting you. But I am not. That is why I made them send for you so I could tell you myself that I could never, never forget you. . . . I think of you always while I am playing--always--always I am thinking of you. You will believe it, won't you?" "Yes," he said. Contented, she turned to her doll again, undressing it deftly, tenderly.