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 there is an angel or two at the top of the steps, waiting for her. And a bright light streaming down on her. The look of—sort of relief on her face, was just like.

'Roger, please,' Cicely broke in. 'Spare me. I beg of you. I'm not interested. Really I'm not. Your flights of enthusiasm and young ragings are incomprehensible to me at times. And so are you. So are you!'

There! Now she'd broken it, the delicate thing she wanted more than anything in the world not to break. Roger was staring at her open-eyed, and exclaiming, 'Why, Cicely! Why, Cicely!' And seeing her flushed cheeks and smouldering eyes; and hearing her voice flash scorn and disapproval at him.

Ten minutes later Cicely in the haven of her own room was saying, too, as she covered her face with her hands, 'Why, Cicely! Why, Cicely!' The queenly, the immune Cicely Morgan brought down to the dust like this!

Roger Dallinger was very thoughtful as he went back to Boston on the four-o'clock train that afternoon. He hadn't intended to go back on the four-o'clock train. He had had a distinctly different plan