She woke with a start.  Some one was trying the handle of the door—­very quietly, but yet not at all as though making any attempt to conceal the fact.

Something must be amiss, and one of the maids had come to warn her.  The possibility that the house was on fire, or that burglars had broken in, flashed through her mind.

She sprang to her feet, and switching on the light, called out sharply:—­

“Who is it?”

She had not fastened the lock overnight, and her heart beat in great suffocating throbs as she watched the handle turn.

The next moment some one came quickly into the room and closed the door.

It was Max!

Diana fell back a step, staring incredulously.

“You!” she exclaimed, breathlessly. “You!”

He advanced a few paces into the room.  He was very pale, and his face wore a curiously excited expression.  His eyes were brilliant—­fiercely exultant, yet with an odd gleam of the old, familiar mockery in their depths, as though something in the situation amused him.

“Yes,” he said.  “Are you surprised to see me?”

“You—­you said you were not returning till Saturday,” she stammered.

“I found I could get away sooner than I expected, so I caught the last up-train—­and here I am.”

There was a rakish, devil-may-care note in his voice that filled her with a vague apprehension.  Summoning up her courage, she faced him, striving to keep her voice steady.

“And why—­why have you come to me—­now?”

“I found your note—­the note you had left on my desk, so I thought I would like to say good-bye,” he answered carelessly.

“You could have waited till to-morrow morning,” she returned coldly.  “You—­you”—­she stammered a little, and a faint flush tinged her pallor—­“you should not have come . . . here.”

A sudden light gleamed in his eyes, mocking and triumphant.

“It is my wife’s room.  A husband”—­slowly—­“has certain rights.”

“Ah-h!” She caught her breath, and her hand flew her throat.

“And since,” he continued cruelly, never taking his eye from her face, “since those rights are to be rescinded to-morrow for ever—­why, then, to-night—­”

“No! . . .  No!” She shrank from him, her hands stretched out as though to ward him off.

“You’ve said ‘no’ to me for the last six months,” he said grimly.  “But—­that’s ended now.”

Her eyes searched his face wildly, reading only a set determination in it.  Slowly, desperately, she backed away from him; then, suddenly, she made a little rush, and, reaching the door, pulled at the handle.  But it remained fast shut.

“It’s locked!” she cried, frantically tugging at it.  She flashed round upon him.  “The key!  Where’s the key?”

The words came sobbingly.

He put his fingers in his pocket.

“Here,” he answered coolly.