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 a pretence of arranging her curls she freed her hand.

'Once I thought, Sears, you believed me to be only a woman whom Anthony had tired of, discarded.'

'No,' he said with a sweet sadness, 'you are only you, and I love you.'

They kissed thoughtfully and sat in silence. The approaching night was gathering through the hollow room. When next they turned back to each other, he saw only a pale oval set with shallow features, and she a dark beard, rough dark hair, and the bulk of his shoulders. Lanice clung to him.

'Sears,' she said, 'I want to tell you about Anthony,' and pressed her mushroom-smooth cheek to his bearded lips. 'Sears...I've never told any one.'

A silence fell and through it the clocks struck, one after the other, each politely waiting until its brother was done. She thought to herself 'How well, sometime, I will know those clocks, lie awake and listen to them, wind them up, perhaps dust them.' Below her resting head she heard the strong heart-beat of her lover.

'If you must,' he said, 'but I'd rather you didn't.'

She rose to her feet, a wan, wistful lady. In the twilight of the room she was a lifeless ghost of some one else.

'I am going now; I am sure the Alcotts want to go to bed.'

'No, wait. Tell me, Lanice...'

'Not if you do not wish to know.'