nt to her from the
vessel. Priscilla Glynn took care of Huntter without knowing of his
connection in the Moffatt affair. Above all else in the world"--Travers's
voice shook--"she adores Margaret Moffatt, knows her intimately, and
wishes, blindly, to serve her as she understands her. There are such
women, you know, and they are becoming more numerous. She has gone
to--tell Margaret Moffatt."

"Gone?" Ledyard reeled back a step. "And you permitted that?"

"I had no choice. You do not know--my--my--well, Miss Glynn."

"Not know her? The young fiend! Not know her? I remember her well. I
might have known that no good could come from her. But--we can crush her,
the young idiot! I do not envy you your fiancee, Dick."

The telephone rang sharply and Ledyard took up the receiver with
trembling hand.

"It's your mother," he said; "you had better speak for yourself."

"So you are there, Dick?"

"Yes, mother."

"There was a message just now. Such a peculiar one. I thought you had
better have it at once. It was only this: 'She knows' and a 'good-bye.'"

"Thanks, mother. I understand."

Ledyard watched the unflinching face and noted the even voice. He was so
near he had caught Helen's words.

"And that is all, mother?"

"All, dear."

"I'll be home soon. Good night."

Then he looked up at Ledyard, and the older man's face softened.

"You'll find this sort of thing is a devil of a jigsaw. It cuts in all
directions," he said, laying his hand on Travers's shoulder.

"Yes, doesn't it? But, Doctor Ledyard, I want to tell you something.
She's right--that girl of mine, and Margaret Moffatt, too--and you know
it as well as I do! If I can, I'm going to have my love and my woman; but
even if I go empty hearted to my grave I shall know--they are right!
Besides being women, and our loves, they are human beings, and they are
beginning to find it out. The way may lead through hell, but it ends
in----"

"What?" Ledyard breathed; his eyes fixed on the stern young face.

"In understanding. It leads to the responsibility all women must take.
Good night, old friend."

CHAPTER XXIV

Priscilla had gone straight from Margaret Moffatt's to her own little
apartment. She had no sense of suffering; no sensation at all. She must
pack and get away! And like a dead thing she set to work, although it was
midnight and she had been so weary before; and then she smiled
quiveringly:

"Before!"

She stood and stretched out her arms