March 5. Cyrus came to me in my office to-day--as I had expected. But
instead of looking woebegone and abject, he was radiant. He shut the
door behind him. "_You_--guilty of cowardice," he began. "It isn't
strange that I never suspected it."
"What do you mean?" I asked, not putting down my pen.
He came over and took it out of my fingers, then he took my fingers and
kissed them, one by one. I was so astounded--and something else--that I
made not the slightest resistance. "It's useless for you to cry out,"
he said, "for I've got the outer door well guarded."
[Illustration]