long the edge of the spring, what does
I do but go to work and take up a note to a lady when her
husband was there! Next thing I knew he went to work and
hauled her round the floor by the hair and skinned out--yes,
beat it for good. And my madam says to me, 'Annie, you're
fired. Never give a note to a lady when her gent is by or to
a gent when his lady's by. That's the first rule of life in gay
New York.' And you can bet I never have since--nor never will."

Susan had glanced at the address on the note, had recognized
the handwriting of Brent's secretary. Her heart had
straightway sunk as if the foreboding of calamity had been
realized. As she stood there uncertainly, Annie seized the
opportunity to run on and on. Susan now said absently, "Thank
you. Very well," and closed the door. It was a minute or so
before she tore open the envelope with an impatient gesture
and read:

DEAR MRS. SPENSER:

Mr. Brent requests me to ask you not to come until further
notice. It may be sometime before he will be free to resume.

Yours truly,
JOHN C. GARVEY.

It was a fair specimen of Garvey's official style, with which
she had become acquainted--the style of the secretary who has
learned by experience not to use frills or flourishes but to
convey his message in the fewest and clearest words. Had it
been a skillfully worded insult Susan, in this mood of
depression and distorted mental vision, could not have
received it differently. She dropped to a chair at the table
and stared at the five lines of neat handwriting until her
eyes became circled and her face almost haggard. Precisely as
Rod had described! After a long, long time she crumpled the
paper and let it fall into the waste-basket. Then she walked
up and down the room--presently drifted into the bathroom and
resumed cleaning the coffee machine. Every few moments she
would pause in the task--and in her dressing afterwards--would
be seized by the fear, the horror of again being thrust into
that hideous underworld. What was between her and it, to save
her from being flung back into its degradation? Two men on
neither of whom she could rely. Brent might drop her at any
time--perhaps had already dropped her. As for Rod--vain,
capricious, faithless, certain to become an unendurable
tyrant if he got her in his power--Rod was even less of a
necessity than Brent. What a dangerous situ