A laughing argument, which lasted until the needles and tape were purchased. Then they continued their walk down the Rue de la Corraterie and came to the Bastion gardens, where they sat down under the trees. Felicia was happy. The brotherly kiss of the previous evening had restored to her the self-respect that her maidenhood seemed to have lost. He was still the prince of her girl's heart, she could serve him now, she felt, without shame or shrinking. The growing woman in her divined his mood and strove to cheer him with her most lightsome self. Womanhood divined the mood, but inexperience was blind to its dangerousness. Unconsciously her sweet charm of youth drew Raine nearer to her. When they parted, he felt that he had gone within an ace of making love to her, and committing a base action. The thought stung him. He had not reckoned upon such weakness in himself. Spurred by an impatient scorn of his cowardice, his heart turned all the more passionately to Katherine. CHAPTER XV.--THE SIGNING OF A DEATH WARRANT. The balcony outside Katherine's room baked in the morning sun. A tiny patch of sunshine stood on the threshold of the open window like a hesitating guest. A cool breeze entered the room, fluttering the gay ribbons of a tambourine hanging against the wall. Hockmaster had gone. She did not know whether it was the relief of his absence or the rush of air caused by the opening of the door that sent a fierce momentary thrill through her frame. Her eyes were burning, her throat parched, her body quivering in a passion of anger. She stood for a few seconds, with parted lips, breathing great draughts of the cool air, and mechanically unloosened the neck of her dress; it was strangling her. Then she turned, looking from right to left, like a caged creature panting for escape. Her glance fell upon the chair where Hockmaster had just sat. The edge of the rug at the feet was curled, the cushion flattened, the tidy disarranged--all hatefully suggestive of his continued presence. With a passionate movement, she rushed and restored the things to order, shaking the cushion with childish fierceness, till not a wrinkle was left. While the action lasted, it relieved her. She crossed the room, sat for a moment. But every pulse in her throbbed. Motionlessness was impossible. She sprang to her feet and paced the room, moving her arms in passionate gestures. Forgive him! Never--never in this world or the next. To have betrayed her--to Raine of all men. The thought in its fiery agony was almost unthinkable. The drawling, plaintive tone in which he had made his confession maddened her. The echo of his words pierced her brain.