sent herself for sentence. In secret her courage failed her. It would
be the visible symbol of O'Bannon's triumph over her. Yet her will threw
itself in vain against the necessity. Nothing but death could save her.
It would be short anyhow. She knew how it would be. She and Wiley would
appear in the midst of some other wretch's trial. There would be
whisperings about the judge's desk, and O'Bannon would be there--not
looking at her, but triumphing in his black heart, and the judge would
say "A thousand-dollar fine," or--no, nothing so succinct. He would find
it an opportunity to talk about her and her case first. And then she
would pay the money and leave court, a convicted criminal.

And then the second stage would begin. It would be her turn. She would
give her life to getting even with O'Bannon. She who had always needed a
purpose--a string on which to thread her life--had found it in hate.
Most people found it in love, but for her part she enjoyed hate. It was
exciting and active, and, oh, what a climax it promised! Yes, like the
adventuress in the melodrama, she would go to him herself and say: "I've
waited ten years to ruin you, and now I've done it. Have you been
wondering all these years what was against you--what held you back and
poisoned everything you touched? It was I!"

Other people, she knew, thought such things and never put them in
action. But she had no reason to distrust the power of her own will, and
never had she willed anything as she willed this. She began to arrange
it. There were three ways in which you could hurt a man--through his
love, through his ambitions and through his finances. A crooked
politician like O'Bannon might suffer most by being ruined politically.
She must always keep some hold on Albee for that. Money probably
wouldn't greatly matter to O'Bannon. But love--he was an emotional
creature. Women, she felt sure, played a tremendous role in his life.
And he was attractive to them--accustomed to success probably. Oh, to
think that she had been for a few seconds acquiescent in his arms! And
yet that meant that she had power over him. She knew she had power.
Should that be her method--to make him think that she had seen him not
as an enemy but as a hero, a crusader, a master, that she was an adoring
victim? Oh, how easily she could make love to him, and how
successfully! She could imagine going down on her knees to him, winding
herself about him, only she must have the climax ready so