"Nick," she murmured, "will you kiss me?" She felt a tear on her cheek.
"I'll stand losing you a little better if I can have a--last kiss--to
remember." Her voice was faltering.
His arms were about her. She yielded herself completely to his caress;
the park, the crowd passing a few yards away, the people on near-by
benches, were all forgotten, and once more she felt herself alone with
Nicholas Devine in a vast empty cosmos.
An insistent voice penetrated her consciousness; she realized that it
had been calling her name for some seconds.
"Miss Lane," she heard, and again, "Miss Lane." A hand tapped her
shoulder; with a sudden start, she tore her lips away, and looked up
into a face unrecognized for a moment. Then she placed it. It was the
visage of Mueller, Dr. Horker's companion on that disastrous Saturday
night.
16