"No? Priscilla, what do you mean?"

"Do not move. Please do not look up. She is--engaged to--to Clyde
Huntter!"

"Well?"

"I did not know; she never mentioned his name. While we played, names did
not matter--his, mine, no one's." An hysterical gasp caused Travers to
start.

"No, please keep your face turned. I must tell you in my way. I have just
taken care of--Mr. Huntter. He is not--fit to marry any woman--he cannot
marry--Margaret! Doctor Hapgood told him, but--he--means to marry! She
came to see him; she did not see me; she does not know; but she _must_
know!" fiercely; "she must know! That is the one thing above all else
that would matter to her; she told me so! She does not live for the--the
now; she was made for--for bigger things!"

"My God!" Travers was on his feet, and he dragged Priscilla with him. He
held her close by her wrists and searched her white, agonized face. Truth
and stern purpose were blazoned on it. She had never looked so beautiful,
so noble, or so--menacing.

"You heard Doctor Hapgood say that?"

"I did."

"In your presence?"