hen? But he knew
it had not. All day, in the new plant, women were working with
high-explosives quite calmly. And there were Audrey and the Haverford
women, strong enough, in all conscience.

Every mental path, those days, somehow led eventually to Audrey. She was
the lighted window at the end of the long trail.

Graham was, as a matter of fact, trying to work out his own salvation.
He blundered, as youth always blunders, and after a violent scene with
Marion Hayden he made an attempt to break off his growing intimacy
with Anna Klein--to find, as many a man had before him, that the sheer
brutality of casting off a loving woman was beyond him.

The scene with Marion came one Sunday in the Spencer house, with Natalie
asleep up-stairs after luncheon, and Clayton walking off a sense of
irritation in the park. He did not like the Hayden girl. He could not
fathom Natalie's change of front with regard to Graham and the girl. He
had gone out, leaving them together, and Marion had launched her attack
fiercely.

"Now!" she cried.

"I couldn't come last night. That's all, Marion."

"It is certainly not all. Why couldn't you come?"

"I worked late."

"Where?"

"At the plant."

"That's a lie, Graham. I called the plant. I'll tell you where you were.
You were out with a girl. You were seen, if you want to know it."

"Oh, if you are going to believe everything you hear about me?"

"Don't act like a child. Who was the girl?"

"It isn't like you to be jealous, Marion. I let you run around all the
time with other fellows, but the minute I take a girl out for a little
spin, you're jealous."

"Jealous!" She laughed nastily. But she knew she was losing her temper;
and brought herself up short. Let him think she was jealous. What really
ailed her was deadly fear lest her careful plan go astray. She was
terrified. That was all. And she meant to learn who the girl was.

"I know who it was," she hazarded.

"I think you are bluffing."

"It was Delight Haverford."

"Delight!"

She knew then that she was wrong, but it was her chance to assail
Delight and she took it.

"That--child!" she continued contemptuously. "Don't you suppose I've
seen how she looks at you? I'm not afraid of her. You are too much a man
of the world to let her put anything over on you. At least, I thought
you were. Of course, if you like milk and water?"

"It was not Delight," he said doggedly. "And I don't think we need to
bring her into this at a