She never heeded them; a feeling that she wanted to be alone was all she could realize, and she walked straight to a little alcove opening from the lower end of the long entrance-hall.

An archway and a curtain of amber silk separated it from the drawing-room, of which it was a sort of recess.

A sofa, piled high with downy pillows, stood invitingly under a window.

Among these pillows poor Rose threw herself, to do battle with her despair.
While she lay there in tearless rage, she heard the drawing-room door open, and some one come in.
"Who shall I say, sir ?" insinuated the servant.
"Just say a friend wishes to see Miss Danton," was the answer.
That voice! Rose bounded from the sofa, her eyes wild, her lips apart.
Her hand shook as she drew aside the curtain and looked out.

A gentleman was there, but he sat with his back to her, and his figure was only partially revealed.