"Where are you going?" she asked and the slim, jewelled fingers closed
down on his hand like a vise.

"Let me go!" muttered Rimrock, as he struggled against her; but she
jerked him back to her side.

"Don't you dare to humiliate me!" she hissed into his ear, "don't you
dare to leave me--for her!"

"It's Mary!" mumbled Rimrock without taking his eyes from her and Mrs.
Hardesty tightened her grasp.

"If you do--I'll kill you!" she added dangerously; but Rimrock gave no
heed. He had forgotten all about her; forgotten she was there, the
dead weight that was holding him back; all he saw was Mary, more
radiant than ever, moving towards him down the stairs. She was dressed
in soft white and her glorious brown hair, that had before been crushed
down beneath its clasp, was fluffed out now in all its beauty; and she
talked and laughed as she came. At her side was an elderly,
distinguished gentleman who listened with an indulgent smile--and then
they were engulfed in the crowd. The mass of humanity that had swept
them down the stairway closed in and swallowed them up.

She was gone--but she was there--right there through the crowd--and
Rimrock started towards her. Mrs. Hardesty followed, dragged on by
main strength, and then resolutely she set her feet. The outraged
escorts of jostled ladies formed a solid phalanx against him and
Rimrock wheeled impatiently.

"Let go of my arm!" he commanded savagely and then he met her eyes. If
he had doubted before the nature of the tiger woman he could read it
now at a glance. She was choking with anger and her thin, even teeth
were bared as she hissed out her breath; and then she spoke, very
quietly:

"If you are a gentleman," she said in his ear, "you will not fail to
escort me home. Otherwise----"

She stopped, but the roll of her eyes conveyed a threat that went
beyond words. She was a tigress, after all, a woman of dark passions
and uncontrolled anger, a woman who beneath her languid grace had the
strength and the courage to strike. And now as she faced him the
mill-race of people surged against them and carried them on. They
moved with the crowd, there was no escape, and she lashed him with
bitter words. He listened, unchastened, his head held high, his eyes
still seeking for Mary; and as they plunged into the opposing currents
of the street, he met her, face to face.

The distinguished man was talking now and Mary was listening to what he
said; yet her eyes, that