ent passers-by. Surely
none of them could be as unhappy as she. Like a hideous refrain, over
and over in her head rang the words:

"Trapped, trapped, trapped, by your own mad temper, trapped!"

At length, unable to bear it any longer, the now empty street offering
no distraction, she undressed and went to bed, hoping for relief in
sleep. But sleep would not be wooed. She tossed from side to side,
always hearing those maddening words:

"Trapped, trapped, trapped, by your own mad temper, trapped!"

All sorts of impractical schemes tormented her feverish brain. She would
appeal to the manager of the place. She was a woman. She would
understand. She would do any work, anything, for her bare keep. Take
care of the rooms, wait on table, anything. Then the thought came to her
of how Gertie would gloat to hear--and she would be sure to do so,
things always got out--that she was now doing _her_ old work. No, she
could not bear that.

Perhaps, if she started out very early, she could get a position in some
shop. There must be plenty of shops in a place the size of Winnipeg. But
what would she say when asked what experience she had had? No; that,
too, seemed hopeless.

As a last resort, she thought of throwing herself on Taylor's mercy. She
would explain to him that she had been mad with anger; that she hadn't
in the least realized what she was doing; that her only thought had been
to defy Gertie in the hour of her triumph. Surely no man since the days
of the cave-men would prize an unwilling wife. She would humbly confess
that she had used him and beg his pardon, if necessary, on her knees.

But what if he refused to release her from her promise? And what if he
did release her? What then? There still remained the unsolvable problem
of what she was to do. Her brother had told her that positions in
Winnipeg during the winter months were impossible to get. Gertie had
taunted her with the same fact. She had less than six dollars in the
world. After she had paid her bill she would have little more than four.
It was hopeless.

"Trapped, trapped, trapped, by your own mad temper, trapped!"

And then more plans; each one kindling fresh hope in her heart only to
have it extinguished, like a torch thrown into a pool, when they proved,
on analysis, each to be more impracticable than its predecessor. And
then, the refrain. And then, more plans.

It was a haggard and weary-looking bride that presented herself to the
expectant bride