"I've spilled the salt between us--we shall quarrel." The electricity in the atmosphere was gone, and Errington laughed gaily.
"I'm not afraid.

See,"-- he filled their glasses with wine--"let's drink to our compact of friendship." He raised his glass, clinking it gently against hers, and they drank.
But as Diana replaced her glass on the table, she looked once more in a troubled way at the little heap of salt that lay on the white cloth.
"I wish I hadn't spilled it," she said uncertainly.

"It's an ill omen.
Some day we shall quarrel." Her eyes were grave and brooding, as though some prescience of evil weighed upon her.
Errington lifted his glass, smiling.
"Far be the day," he said lightly.
But her eyes, meeting his, were still clouded with foreboding.
[1] This song, "The Haven of Memory," has been set to music by Isador Epstein: published by G.Ricordi & Co., 265 Regent Street, W..