msiness of Sarah
Gailey's scheme to die. She was overwhelmed by the woman's utterly
unconscious impressiveness, which exceeded that of a criminal reprieved
on the scaffold, for the woman had dared an experience that only the
fierce and sublime courage of desperation can affront. She had a feeling
that she ought to apologize profoundly to Sarah Gailey for all that
Sarah must have suffered. And as she heard the ceaseless, cruel play of
the water amid the dark jungle of ironwork under the pier, and the soft
creeping of the foam-curves behind, and the vague stirrings of the
night-wind round about--these phenomena combined mysteriously with the
immensity of the dome above and with the baffling strangeness of the
town, and with the grandeur of the beaten woman by her side; and
communicated to Hilda a thrill that was divine in its unexampled
poignancy.

The great figure of the policeman, suspicious, was descending from the
promenade discreetly towards them. To avoid any encounter with him Hilda
guided her companion towards the pier, and they sheltered there under
the resounding floor of the pier. By the light of one of the lower lamps
Hilda could now clearly see Sarah Gailey's face. It showed no sign of
terror. It was calm enough in its worn, resigned woe. It had the girlish
look again, beneath the marks of age. Hilda could distinguish the young
girl that Sarah had once been.

"Come home, will you?" she entreated.

Sarah Gailey sighed terribly. "I give it up," she said, with weariness.
"I could never do it! I could never do it--now!"

Hilda pulled gently at her unwilling arm. She could not speak. She could
not ask her again: "What's the matter?"

"It isn't that the house is too large," Sarah Gailey went on half
meditatively; "though just think of all those stairs, and not a tap on
any of the upper floors! No! And it isn't that I'm not ready enough to
oblige him. No! I know as well as anybody there's only him between me
and starvation. No! It isn't that he doesn't consider me! No! But when
he goes and settles behind my back with those Boutwoods--" She began to
weep. "And when I can hear you and him discussing me in the next room,
and plotting against me--it's--it's more--" The tears gradually drowned
her voice, and she ceased.

"I assure you, you're quite mistaken," Hilda burst out, with passionate
and indignant persuasiveness. "We never mentioned you. He wanted to talk
to me about my money. And if you feel like that ove