against them and looked at Cecil with a gaze half reproachful and half mischievous. "Silly," she said.

"You're in an awfully strange mood tonight, Monica. Do you feel well?" he asked, looking at her with concern.

With a sudden, swift movement she went to him and grasped him by the lapels of his jacket and pulled him roughly to her, pressing her body close to his and laying her head against his shoulder so that he could feel the soft, moist lips and the warm breath upon his neck.

"Monica," he said weakly, and his voice sounded stifled and strained.

"Shhh!" she whispered. "Oh Cecil! Just let me stay like this a moment! Just for a moment!"

He made a movement to grasp her by her elbows in an effort to push her from him, but she misinterpreted his gesture and her arms were quickly about his neck and he found himself inadvertantly clasping her waist.

"That's right, darling!" she hissed. "Put your arms around me! Hold me close! Close, Cecil darling! Close!"

"Monica!" Cecil said, hoarsely and helplessly.

"Oh my darling! Just let's stand like this, in each other's arms!" she moaned, and it seemed to him her voice came from a great distance. "I couldn't stand it anymore!" she whispered. "I just couldn't! I just couldn't stand him anymore! Oh Cecil! How I've suffered! He was always between us, darling! Always! And I knew how you felt! I knew all the time how you felt! You couldn't keep it from me! Don't you see? I had to do it!"

There was a fretfulness in her voice and she sounded like a naughty child trying to justify some wrongdoing. He felt her lips burrowing into his throat and the sharp nip of her teeth in his flesh. "You old stupid!" she said, and suddenly he felt her rippling with laughter. “Oh Cecil!" she sobbed, "it's just too, too funny!"

Cecil roughly broke her arms from their clasp about his neck and held her at arms length. "What's so funny?" he demanded huskily, ashamed of the tremor in his voice.

"I put it in the custard!" Monica giggled hysterically.

"You put what in the custard?" He was shaking her savagely. Her head rolled about and she was weak with laughter.

"I put it in the custard!" she choked. "Oh you old silly! You didn't think poor old Bill really died of a heart attack! Oh you!"

"My God!" Cecil said hoarsely. He released her suddenly and she fell back against the desk.

"But I thought you knew all along! Oh Cecil, you old stupid! But we just had to be together, Cecil! We just had to be!" She leaned limply against the desk and brushed her hair back from her face and looked at him with a hurt, frightened

stare.

"My God!" said Cecil. "Monica, you've made a horrible mistake!"

"It never was me, was it?" she asked hoarsely.

The little man was bending over her, leaning down over her and his handpainted cravat fell out of his jacket and brushed her hands where they lay calmly folded in her lap.

"Well, it's all over," he said. "We never had any doubts, did we?"

"No," she answered, and looked up into his flushed face.

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