LITMIR.BIZ

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should remain up so late. The doctor had positively forbidden it since her last attack.

      "Cleo and I were watching the procession," she exclaimed. "I never saw so many crazy people since I was born."

      "They've had enough to drive them mad the past two years, God knows," he answered, as his eye rested on Cleo, who was dressed in an old silk kimono belonging to his wife, which a friend of her grandfather had sent her from Japan.

      She saw his look of surprise and said casually:

      "I gave it to Cleo. I never liked the color. Cleo's to stay in the house hereafter. I've moved her things from the servants' quarters to the little room in the hall. I want her near me at night. You stay so late sometimes."

      He made no answer, but the keen eyes of the girl saw the silent rage flashing from his eyes and caught the look of fierce determination as he squared his shoulders and gazed at her for a moment. She knew that he would put her out unless she could win his consent. She had made up her mind to fight and never for a moment did she accept the possibility of defeat.

      He muttered an incoherent answer to his wife, kissed her good night, and went to his room. He sat down in the moonlight beside the open window, lighted a cigar and gazed out on the beautiful lawn.

      His soul raged in fury over the blind folly of his wife. If the devil himself had ruled the world he could not have contrived more skillfully to throw this dangerous, sensuous young animal in his way. It was horrible! He felt himself suffocating with the thought of its possibilities! He rose and paced the floor and sat down again in helpless rage.

      The door softly opened and closed and the girl stood before him in the white moonlight, her rounded figure plainly showing against the shimmering kimono as the breeze through the window pressed the delicate silk against her flesh.

      He turned on her angrily:

      "How dare you?"

      "Why, I haven't done anything, major!" she answered softly. "I just came in to pick up that basket of trash I forgot this morning" – she spoke in low, lingering tones.

      He rose, walked in front of her, looked her in the eye and quietly said:

      "You're lying."

      "Why, major – "

      "You know that you are lying. Now get out of this room – and stay out of it, do you hear?"

      "Yes, I hear," came the answer that was half a sob.

      "And make up your mind to leave this place to-morrow, or I'll put you out, if I have to throw you head foremost into the street."

      She took a step backward, shook her head and the mass of tangled red hair fell from its coil and dropped on her shoulders. Her eyes were watching him now with dumb passionate yearning.

      "Get out!" he ordered brutally.

      A moment's silence and a low laugh was her answer.

      "Why do you hate me?" she asked the question with a note of triumph.

      "I don't," he replied with a sneer.

      "Then you're afraid of me!"

      "Afraid of you?"

      "Yes."

      He took another step and towered above her, his fists clenched and his whole being trembled with anger:

      "I'd like to strangle you!"

      She flung back her rounded throat, shook the long waves of hair down her back and lifted her eyes to his:

      "Do it! There's my throat! I want you to. I wouldn't mind dying that way!"

      He drew a deep breath and turned away.

      With a sob the straight figure suddenly crumpled on the floor, a scarlet heap in the moonlight. She buried her face in her hands, choked back the cries, fought for self-control, and then looked up at him through her eyes half blinded by tears:

      "Oh, what's the use! I won't lie any more. I didn't come in here for the basket. I came to see you. I came to beg you to let me stay. I watched you to-night when she told you that I was to sleep in that room there, and I knew you were going to send me away. Please don't! Please let me stay! I can do you no harm, major! I'll be wise, humble, obedient. I'll live only to please you. I haven't a single friend in the world. I hate negroes. I loathe poor white trash. This is my place, here in your home, among the birds and flowers, with your baby in my arms. You know that I love him and that he loves me. I'll work for you as no one else on earth would. My hands will be quick and my feet swift. I'll be your slave, your dog – you can kick me, beat me, strangle me, kill me if you like, but don't send me away – I – I can't help loving you! Please – please don't drive me away."

      The passionate, throbbing voice broke into a sob and she touched his foot with her hand. He could feel the warmth of the soft, young flesh. He stooped and drew her to her feet.

      "Come, child," he said with a queer hitch in his voice, "you – you – mustn't stay here another moment. I'm sorry – "

      She clung to his hand with desperate pleading and pressed close to him:

      "But you won't send me away?"

      She could feel him trembling.

      He hesitated, and then against the warning of conscience, reason, judgment and every instinct of law and self-preservation, he spoke the words that cost so much:

      "No – I – I – won't send you away!"

      With a sob of gratitude her head sank, the hot lips touched his hand, a rustle of silk and she was gone.

      And through every hour of the long night, maddened by the consciousness of her physical nearness – he imagined at times he could hear her breathing in the next room – he lay awake and fought the Beast for the mastery of life.

      CHAPTER X

      MAN TO MAN

      Cleo made good her vow of perfect service. In the weeks which followed she made herself practically indispensable. Her energy was exhaustless, her strength tireless. She not only kept the baby and the little mother happy, she watched the lawn and the flowers. The men did no more loafing. The grass was cut, the hedges trimmed, every dead limb from shrub and tree removed and the old place began to smile with new life.

      Her work of housekeeper and maid-of-all-work was a marvel of efficiency. No orders were ever given to her. They were unnecessary. She knew by an unerring instinct what was needed and anticipated the need.

      And then a thing happened that fixed her place in the house on the firmest basis.

      The baby had taken a violent cold which quickly developed into pneumonia. The doctor looked at the little red fever-scorched face and parched lips with grave silence. He spoke at last with positive conviction:

      "His life depends on a nurse, Norton. All I can do is to give orders. The nurse must save him."

      With a sob in her voice, Cleo said:

      "Let me – I'll save him. He can't die if it depends on that."

      The doctor turned to the mother.

      "Can you trust her?"

      "Absolutely. She's quick, strong, faithful, careful, and she loves him."

      "You agree, major?"

      "Yes, we couldn't do better," he answered gravely, turning away.

      And so the precious life was given into her hands. Norton spent the mornings in the nursery executing the doctor's orders with clock-like regularity, while Cleo slept. At noon she quietly entered and took his place. Her meals were served in the room and she never left it until he relieved her the next day. The tireless, greenish eyes watched the cradle with death-like stillness and her keen young ears bent low to catch every change in the rising and falling of the little breast. Through the long watches of the night, the quick alert figure with the velvet tread hurried about the room filling every order with skill and patience.

      At the end of two weeks, the doctor smiled, patted her on the shoulder and said:

      "You're a great nurse, little girl. You've saved his life."

      Her

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