But she brooded long, in secret, and would go nowhere. Her aunt, with whom
she lived, could not rouse her for many months to a sense of the vivid
world around her. She would see no one.

Two years later Morgan Pell came into her life, at almost the first dinner
she had attended during a long period of time. His impulsiveness, his
assurance, his faith in himself and his power to win her, swept her
temporarily off her feet. At their second meeting he asked her to become
his wife. Why not? She would never love anyone; but she could not go to the
altar with him unless she told him the truth. She did not love him. Was he
willing to take her, knowing this?

He was. Love meant little to him--though he did not say so. He was just
wise enough to keep that secret within himself.

"I'll make you love me," he told her, with all the ardor he could put into
his voice. Few women can withstand that age-old phrase.

There followed a time of utter disillusion for her. The great house on the
Avenue proved to be but four bleak walls; and when the villa on Long Island
was built, she tried to be as enthusiastic as Morgan wanted her to be. He
lavished gifts upon her. He brought out gay house-parties for weekends.
Lucia did her best to keep her part of a bad bargain. She made herself
lovely, and Pell was proud of her physical charms. The jewel was worth the
finest settings, and these he supplied, with no thought of the cost. He had
someone at the head of his table of whom he was very proud. The world need
never know the solemnity of their lives when the curtain was lowered and
they were alone together. After all, many marriages were like this. Theirs
was by no means an exceptional case; and he experienced a curious secret
joy in the fact that he knew other men envied him his wife, and wondered at