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She longed, yet dreaded, to hear, her own lips refusing utterance. But
Beth Norvell gave little opportunity; her determination made, she swept
forward unhesitatingly. As though fearful of being overheard, even in
the midst of that loneliness, she leaned forward, whispering one quick,
breathless sentence of confession. The startled dancer swayed backward
at the words, clutching at her breast, the faint glimmer of light
revealing her staring eyes and pallid cheeks.
"Mother of God!" she sobbed convulsively. "No, no! not dat! He could
not lie to me like dat!"
"Lie?" in bitter scornfulness. "Lie! Why, it is his very life to
lie--to women. God pity us! This world seems filled with just such
men, and we are their natural victims. Love? Their only conception of
it is passion, and, that once satiated, not even ordinary kindness is
left with which to mock the memory. In Heaven's name, girl, in your
life have you not long since learned this? Now, I will tell you what
this monster wanted of me to-night.


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