U. You know you care, or else why are you
crying up here? And don't do it again, DON'T DO IT AGAIN--or I will--"

"You will--what?"

"Make a fool of myself, as I have now," he finished grimly. And then he
stalked away and left me there alone, completely bewildered, to find my
way down in the dark.

I groped along, holding to the rail, for the staircase to the roof was
very steep, and I went slowly. Half-way down the stairs there was a
tiny landing, and I stopped. I could have sworn I heard Mr. Harbison's
footsteps far below, growing fainter. I even smiled a little, there in
the dark, although I had been rather profoundly shaken. The next instant
I knew I had been wrong; some one was on the landing with me. I could
hear short, sharp breathing, and then--

I am not sure that I struggled; in fact, I don't believe I did--I was
too limp with amazement. The creature, to have lain in wait for me like
that! And he was brutally strong; he caught me to him fiercely, and held
me there, close, and he kissed me--not once or twice, but half a dozen
times, long kisses that filled me with hot shame for him, for myself,
that I had--liked him. The roughness of his coat bruised my cheek; I
loathed him. And then someone came whistling along the hall below, and
he pushed me from him and stood listening, breathing in long, gasping
breaths.

I ran; when my shaky knees would hold me, I ran. I wanted to hide my hot
face, my disgust, my disillusion; I wanted to put my head in mother's
lap and cry; I wanted to die, or be ill, so I need never see him again.
Perversely enough, I did none of those things. With my face still
flaming, with burning eyes and hands that shook, I made a belated
evening toilet and went slowly, haughtily, down the stairs. My hands
were like ice, but I was consumed with rage. Oh, I would show him--that
this was New York, not Iquique; that the roof was not his Andean
tableland.

Every one elaborately ignored my absence from dinner. The Dallas Browns,
Max and Lollie were at bridge; Jim was alone in the den, walking the
floor and biting at an unlighted cigar; Betty had returned to Aunt
Selina and was hysterical, they said, and Flannigan was in deep
dejection because I had missed my dinner.

"Betty is making no end of a row," Max said, looking up from his game,
"because the old lady upstairs insists on chloroform liniment. Betty
says the smell makes her ill."

"And she can inhale Russian cigarettes," Anne said enviousl