was apparently evil. She loved him. She
had thought all night about him, not sleeping. Being so young, it was
hard for her to reason clearly as yet, but somehow it seemed to her that
he was very unhappily placed, terribly ill-mated, and that he needed
her. He was so fine, so clean, so capable! If he did not want Angela,
why should she want him? She would not be suffering for anything save
his company, and why should she want to hold him? She, Suzanne, would
not, if she were in Angela's place. If there were a child, would that
make any real difference? He did not love her.

"Don't worry about me," she said reassuringly. "I love you. Don't you
know I do? I have to talk to you. We have to talk. How is Mrs. Witla?"

She was thinking about what Mrs. Witla would do, whether she would call
up her mother, whether her struggle to have Eugene would begin at once.

"Oh, she's about the same!" he said wearily. "We've had a long argument.
I've told her just what I propose to do, but I'll tell you about that
later."

He went away to change his clothes, and then stepped into Angela's room.

"I'm going to walk with Suzanne," he said dominantly, when he was ready.

"All right," said Angela, who was so tired she could have fainted. "Will
you be back for dinner?"

"I don't know," he replied. "What difference does it make?"

"Only this: that the maid and cook need not stay unless you are coming.
I want nothing."

"When will the nurse be here?"

"At seven."

"Well, you can prepare dinner, if you wish," he said. "I will try and be
back by four."

He walked toward the studio where Suzanne was, and found her waiting,
white-faced, slightly hollow-eyed, but strong and confident. Now, as so
often before, he noticed that spirit of self-sufficiency and reliance
about her young body which had impressed him so forcibly and
delightfully in the past. She was a wonderful girl, this Suzanne, full
of grit and ability, although raised under what might have been deemed
enervating circumstances. Her statement, made under pressure the night
before, that she must go to a hotel and not go home until she could
straighten out her affairs, had impressed him greatly. Why had she
thought of going out in the world to work for herself unless there were
something really fine about her? She was heir to a fortune under her
father's will, he had heard her mother say once. This morning her glance
was so assured. He did not use the phone to call a car, but st