"Yes," said Margaret, "he does."

"Housekeeping and babies, ugh!" shuddered Iola.

"Yes," cried Margaret, "ah, G.o.d, yes! Housekeeping and babies and Barney! G.o.d pity your poor soul!"

Iola shrank from the fierce intensity of Margaret's sudden pa.s.sion.

"What do you mean?" she cried. "Why do you speak so?"

"Why? Can't you read G.o.d's meaning in your woman's body and in your woman's heart?"

From Margaret Iola got little help. Indeed, the gulf between the two was growing wider every day. She resolved to show her letter to d.i.c.k. They were to go that evening to the play and after the play there would be supper. And when he had taken her home she would show him the letter.

On their way home that evening as they were pa.s.sing d.i.c.k's rooms, he suddenly remembered that a message was to be sent him from the office.

"Let us run in for a moment," he said.

"I think I had better wait you here," replied Iola.

"Nonsense!" cried d.i.c.k. "Don't be a baby. Come in."

Together they entered and, laying aside her wrap, Iola sat down and drew forth Barney's letter.

"Listen, d.i.c.k. I want your advice." And she read over such portions of Barney's letter as she thought necessary.

"Well?" she said, as d.i.c.k remained silent.

"Well," replied d.i.c.k, "what's your answer to be?"

"You know what he means," said Iola a little impatiently. "He wants me to marry him at once and to settle down."

"Well," said d.i.c.k, "why not?"

"Now, d.i.c.k," cried Iola, "do you think I am suited for that kind of life? Can you picture me devoting myself to the keeping of a house tidy, the overseeing of meals? I fancy I see myself spending the long, quiet evenings, my husband busy in his office or out among his patients while I dose and yawn and grow fat and old and ugly, and the great world forgetting. d.i.c.k, I should die! Of course, I love Barney. But I must have life, movement. I can't be forgotten!"

"Forgotten?" cried d.i.c.k. "Why should you be forgotten? Barney's wife could not be ignored and the world could not forget you. And, after all," added d.i.c.k, in a musing tone, "to live with Barney ought to be good enough for any woman."

"Why, how eloquent you are, d.i.c.k!" she cried, making a little moue. "You are quite irresistible!" she added, leaning toward him with a mocking laugh.

"Come, let us go," said d.i.c.k painfully, conscious of her physical charm.

"We must get away."

"But you haven't helped me, d.i.c.k," she cried, drawing nearer to him and laying her hand upon his arm.

The perfume of her hair smote upon his senses. The beauty of her face and form intoxicated him.

He knew he was losing control of himself.

"Come, Iola," he said, "let us go."

"Tell me what to say, d.i.c.k," she replied, smiling into his face and leaning toward him.

"How can I tell you?" cried d.i.c.k desperately, springing up. "I only know you are beautiful, Iola, beautiful as an angel, as a devil! What has come over you, or is it me, that you should affect me so? Do you know,"

he added roughly, lifting her to her feet, his breath coming hard and fast, "I can hardly keep my hands off you. We must go. I must go. Come!"

"Poor child," mocked Iola, still smiling into his eyes, "is it afraid it will get hurt?"

"Stop it, Iola!" cried d.i.c.k. "Come on!"

"Come," she mocked, still leaning toward him.

Swiftly d.i.c.k turned, seized her in his arms, his eyes burning down upon her mocking face. "Kiss me!" he commanded.

Gradually she allowed the weight of her body to lean upon him, drawing him steadily down toward her the while, with the deep, pa.s.sionate lure of her l.u.s.trous eyes.

"Kiss me!" he commanded again. But she shook her head, holding him still with her gaze.

"G.o.d in heaven!" cried d.i.c.k. "Go away!" He made to push her from him.

She clasped him about the neck, allowing herself to sink in his arms with her face turned upward to his. Fiercely he crushed her to him, and again and again his hot, pa.s.sionate kisses fell upon her face.

Conscious only of the pa.s.sion throbbing in their hearts and pulsing through their bodies, oblivious to all about them, they heard not the opening of the door and knew not that a man had entered the room. For a single moment he stood stricken with horror as if gazing upon death itself. Turning to depart, his foot caught a chair. Terror-smitten, the two sprang apart and stood with guilt and shame stamped upon their ghastly faces.

"Barney!" they cried together.

Slowly he came back to them. "Yes, it is I." The words seemed to come from some far distance. "I couldn't wait. I came for my answer, Iola.

I thought I could persuade you better. I have it now. I have lost you! And"--here he turned to d.i.c.k--"oh, my G.o.d! My G.o.d! I have lost my brother, too!" he turned to depart from him.

"Barney," cried d.i.c.k pa.s.sionately, "there was no wrong! There was nothing beyond what you saw!"

"Was that all?" inquired his brother quietly.

"As G.o.d is in heaven, Barney, that was all!"

Barney threw a swift glance round the room, crossed to a side table, and picked up a Bible lying there. He turned the leaves rapidly and handed it to his brother with his finger upon a verse.

"Read!" he said. "You know your Bible. Read!" His voice was terrible and compelling in its calmness.

Following the pointing finger, d.i.c.k's eyes fell upon words that seemed to sear his eyeb.a.l.l.s as he read, "Whosoever looketh on a woman to l.u.s.t after her, hath committed adultery with her already in his heart."

Heart-smitten, d.i.c.k stood without a word.

"I could kill you now," said the quiet, terrible voice. "But what need?

To me you are already dead."

When d.i.c.k looked up his brother had gone. Nerveless, broken, he sank into a chair and sat with his face in his hands. Beside him stood Iola, pale, rigid, her eyes distended as if she had seen a horrid vision. She was the first to recover.

"d.i.c.k," she said softly, laying her hand upon his head.

He sprang up as if her fingers had been red-hot iron and had burned to the bone.