he followed, half
swooning--followed him up the stairs to the curtained boxes that ran
round the gallery.

When they were alone, she faced him, managing to utter: "So! _You_--are
John Daniels! They said you were dead."

She expected some violence--death, perhaps, but he only looked at her
silently with an expression she could not read. She felt she must
scream. She swayed, her eyes were filmed with terror.

"Well! Why don't you do it, McGill? Why don't you--?" she cried,
hysterically.

"Where is Barclay?" he inquired.

"He's here--somewhere. We came three weeks ago--We--I didn't know--"

He saw that she was not the woman he had known: she was frail, broken;
her fluttering hands were thin and bloodless; she had no spirit.

"So! He's got you working, eh? You're one of these--_rustlers_!"

"I had to do something. All I know is stage work."

"This ain't stage work!"

She nodded wearily. "He made me go the--limit."

"_Made_ you! Did you get a divorce?"

"N-no!"

Daniels cursed so harshly that she flinched, although she had long since
grown accustomed to profanity. Then he turned away, but, reading murder
in his face, she seized him with fingers that were like claws.

"Wait! Don't do that!"

"You love him, don't you?"

"No, no! But--he's bad now, and--and probably drunk. He'll kill you,
McGill. He's bad, I tell you--tough--don't you understand? He's bad, and
he's made me bad, too, that's why I'm here. He's not worth it, McGill;
neither am I!"

"You can't stay in Arcadia, neither of you. I got out of Ophir and let
you alone, but this is my town; I can't leave it."

"We'll go," she cried, wringing her hands; "anyhow, I'll go, if you'll
help me. But I'll need help--Oh, God! Yes, I'll need help! You don't
know--You and he can settle things afterward."

"You want to leave him?"

"I've tried to break away, I've been trying ever since that first day in
Ophir, but he won't let me. I kept trying--until I learned better; now
I'm afraid. He's broken me, Dan, but you'll help me to leave him, won't
you?"

After a time the husband answered, more to himself than to her: "I guess
I'm even with _you_, anyhow. You've gone to hell, hand in hand with him.
I won't interfere--not that way. I s'pose he beats you?"

She nodded, and saw his bearded face twitch. "Yes, and he'll make me
like these other women--you understand? I've fought until I'm tired,
worn out. I'm in a trap, McGill, and--I'm afraid--afraid for the littl