he said, "somebody crying. Oh! don't
let's go in, Miss Dear."

From behind the closed door there issued suddenly the confused murmur
of voices, one--a woman's--rising and falling in the cadence of
distress, the other low pitched in exasperated expostulation.

"It's Collier," Nancy said mechanically, "and some woman with him."

Sheila shrank closer into the protecting shelter of her arms.

"Don't let's go in, Miss Dear," she repeated.

"It may be just some model," Nancy said. "We'll wait a minute here and
see if she doesn't come out."

"I--I don't want to see who comes out," the child said, her face
suddenly distorted.

There was a sharp sound of something falling within, then Collier
Pratt's voice raised loud in anger.

"You'd better go now," he said, "before you do any more damage. I
don't want you here. Once and for all I tell you that there is no
place for you in my life. Weeping and wailing won't do you any good.
The only thing for you to do is to get out and stay out."

This was answered by an indistinguishable outburst.

"I won't tell you where the child is," Collier Pratt said steadily.
"She's well taken care of. God knows you never took care of her.
There's nothing you can do, you know. You might sue for a restitution
of conjugal rights, I suppose, but if you drag this thing into the
courts I'll fight it out to the end. I swear I will."

"You brute,--you--"

At the first clear sound of the woman's voice the child at Nancy's
side broke into sobs of convulsive terror.

"Take me away, Miss Dear. Oh! take me away from here, quickly,
quickly, I'm so frightened. I'm so afraid she'll come out and get me.
It's my _mother_," she moaned.

CHAPTER XVII

GOOD-BY

Nancy had no memory of her actions during the time that elapsed
between leaving the studio building and her arrival at her own
apartment. She knew that she must have guided Sheila to the beginning
of the bus route at the lower end of the square, and as perfunctorily
signaled the conductor to let her off at the corner of Fifth Avenue
and her own street, but she could never remember having done so. Her
first conscious recollection was of the few minutes in Sheila's room,
while she was slipping off the child's gaiters, in the interval before
she gave her over to Hitty for the night. The little girl was still
sobbing beneath her breath, though her emotion was by this time purely
reflexive.

"I didn't understand that your mother was living