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280 these streamers seemed to disperse in the air, others, like an eddying water-spout, seemed to draw back into that focus of light which lay over Archie's breast. Then that too began to fade, and in the stillness and quiet she again heard the creaking of his shirt as he lay back in his chair with closed eyes. Then the struggles and meanings, the writhings of his arms began again, and again subsided, and he lay quite still. Outside the night-wind stirred and dropped.

Then Archie spoke in a tired, husky voice.

"Hullo, Jessie," he said, "it's all over. By Jove, it was ripping. But I went awfully deep. I can remember nothing after Martin came. What did he say?"

Jessie got up.

"I heard hardly anything," she said. "He spoke in whispers, and so did you."

"Did you see him?" asked Archie.

"Yes, quite clearly. But I think I'll go to bed now. You look very tired."

He had got up and turned on the electric light, and stood by the door rubbing his eyes.

"Yes, I am tired," he said, "but I'm divinely happy. Tell me to-morrow whatever you can remember. Good-night, Jess. You are a good sort."

He detained her hand for a moment.

"We're cousins, Jess," he said, "and you're an awfully good friend. Won't you give me a kiss?"

For one second she shrank from him in nameless horror. The next she put it all from her, for her shrinking, no angel of the Lord, but a weak, cowardly impulse, stood full in the path of love, and while it was there she could not reach Archie.

"Why, of course," she said, kissing him. "Good-night, Archie; sleep well."

She went to her room, and turned on all the lights. She felt as if she had been assisting at some unclean orgy, she felt tainted and defiled by the very presence