read. It was terrible to her to know that
Collier Pratt had the memory of so much bitterness and distress of
mind and body locked away in the secret chambers of his soul. "Some
one of whom I must not speak," Sheila had said, "and some one of whom
I must not think," Nancy added to herself. It was probably some one
with whom he had quarreled and struggled passionately maybe, with
disastrous results. He could not have injured or killed anybody, else
how could he be free and honorably considered in a free and honorable
country? She laughed at her own melodramatic misgivings. It was only,
she realized, that she so detested the connotation of the words "ran
away." Nancy had never run away from anything or anybody in her life,
and she could not understand that any one who was close to her should
ever have the instinct of flight.

The most conscientious objector to New York's traffic regulations can
not claim that they fail to regulate. The progress of their cab down
the avenue was so scrupulously regulated by the benignant guardians of
the semaphores that twilight was deepening into early December evening
before they reached their objective point,--the ramshackle studio
building on the south side of Washington Square where the man she
loved lived, moved and had his being, with the gallant ease and grace
which made him so romantic a figure to Nancy's imagination.

She had never been to his studio before without an appointment, and
her heart beat a little harder as, Sheila's hand in hers, they tiptoed
up the worn and creaking stairs, through the ill-kept, airless
corridors of the dingy structure, till they reached the top, and stood
breathless from their impetuous ascent, within a few feet of Collier
Pratt's battered door.

"I feel a little scared, Miss Dear," Sheila whispered. "I thought it
was going to be so much fun and now I don't think so at all. Do you
think he will be very angry at my coming?"

"I don't think he will be angry at all," Nancy said. "I think he will
be very much surprised and pleased to see both of us. Turn around,
dear, and let me be sure that you're neat."

Sheila turned obediently. Nancy fumbled with her pocket mirror, and
then thought better of it, but passed a precautionary hand over the
back of her hair to reassure herself as to its arrangement, and
straightened her hat.

"Now we're ready," she said.

But Sheila put out her hand, and clutched at Nancy's sleeve.

"There's some one in there," s