e; you overestimate my power."

"Not at all. How can I when I see the evidence of it every day? You have
left me practically without a friend; if that flatters you, enjoy it to
the utmost." The girl's eyes filled with tears.

"Not without _one_," she sneered significantly; "surely you don't mean
that?"

The peach-blow color rose in the girl's cheeks.

"No," she answered with a touch of defiance, "not without one, or two
when it comes to that."

"And who is--the other?"

"I can count on Mrs. Terriberry. Even you have no influence with her,
Dr. Harpe."

"You are very sure of your two friends." The woman slouching over the
table looked more than ever like a bird of prey.

"Very sure," Essie Tisdale answered, again in proud defiance.

"Then of course you know that Van Lennop left Crowheart this morning?"
She drawled the words in cruel enjoyment with her eyes fixed upon the
girl's face.

Her eyes shone malevolently as she saw it blanch.

"Didn't he tell you he was going? I'm amazed."

The girl stood in stunned silence.

"Yes, a telegram sent him to Mexico to look after some important
interests there. Quite unexpected. He left a letter for me saying
good-by and regretting that he would not be back. So you see, my dear
Essie, that when it comes to the actual count your friends have
simmered down to one." It was not enough that she should crush her, she
wanted somehow to wring from her a cry of pain.

"You made a fool of yourself over him, Ess! The whole town laughed at
you. You should have known that a man like Van Lennop, of his position,
doesn't take a biscuit-shooter seriously. Green as you are you should
have known that. You've ruined yourself in Crowheart, doggin' his
footsteps every time he turned and all that sort of thing; he simply
couldn't shake you. You're done for here; you're down and out and you
might as well quit the flat. It's the best thing you can do, or marry
the first man that asks you and settle down."

Essie Tisdale looked at her, speechless with pain and shock. She had no
reply; in the face of such a leave-taking there seemed nothing for her
to say. Every taunt was like a stab in her aching heart because she felt
they must be true. It _was_ true, else he would not have left her
without a word. What did it all mean? How could such sincerity be false!
Was no one true in all the world? Oh, the sickening misery of it all--of
life!

She turned away and left the dining-room, swaying a litt