She lifted the white veil and raised her face. In the dim gray light Lane saw it as never before.
"Kiss me, Daren," she whispered.
Lane had never kissed her. For an instant he was confused.
"Why—little girl!" he exclaimed.
"Hurry!" she whispered, imperiously.
Some instinct beyond Lane's ken prompted him to do what she asked.
"Good-bye, my little Princess," he whispered. "Don't ever forget me."
"Never, Daren. Good-bye." She slipped down the stairway and in a moment more vanished in the gray gloom of the misty night.
Only then did Lane understand what she, with her woman's intuition, had divined—that they would never be together again. The realization gave him a pang. Bessy was his only victory.
Slowly Lane made his way back to the club-rooms. He had begun to weaken under the strain and felt the approach of something akin to collapse. When he reached the large room he found Swann half conscious and Thesel showing signs of coming to.