er brother--consternation, anger, and passionate denial
on her part; on his, fury, threats, maudlin paroxysms of self-pity, and
every attitude that drink and utter demoralisation can distort into a
parody on what a brother might say and do.

To escape it she had gone to Tuxedo for a week; now, fear and foreboding
had brought her back--fear intensified at the very threshold of the city
when Duane seemed to look straight at her and pass her by without
recognition. Men don't do that, but she was too inexperienced to know
it; and she hastened on with a heavy heart, found a taxi-cab to take her
to the only home she had ever known, descended, and rang for admittance.

In these miserable days she had come to look for hidden meaning even in
the expressionless faces of her trained servants, and now she
misconstrued the respectful smile of welcome, brushed hastily past the
maid who admitted her, and ran upstairs.

Except for the servants she was alone. She rang for information
concerning her brother; nobody had any. He had not been home in a week.

Her toilet, after the journey, took her two hours or more to accomplish;
it was dark at five o'clock and snowing heavily when tea was served. She
tasted it, then, unable to subdue her restlessness, went to the
telephone; and after a long delay, heard the voice she tremblingly
expected:

"Is that you, Jack?" she asked.

"Yes."

"H-how are you?"

"Not very well."

"Have you heard anything new about certain proceedings?" she inquired
tremulously.

"Yes; she's begun them."

"On--on w-what grounds?"

"Not on any grounds to scare you. It will be a Western matter."

Her frightened sigh of relief turned her voice to a whisper:

"Has Stuyve--has a certain relative--annoyed you since I've been away?"

"Yes, over the telephone, drunk, as usual."

"Did he make--make any more threats, Jack?"

"The usual string. Where is he?"

"I don't know," she said; "he hasn't been home in a week, they tell me.
Jack, do you think it safe for you to drop in here for a few moments
before dinner?"

"Just as you say. If he comes in, there may be trouble. Which isn't a
good idea, on your account."

No woman in such circumstances is moved very much by an appeal to her
caution.

"But I want to see you, Jack," she said miserably.

"That seems to be the only instinct that governs you," he retorted,
slightly impatient. "Can't you ever learn the elements of prudence? It
seems to me about time t