toward the door, unfastened it and gained the open. There were
feathery snowflakes in the air and they touched Cynthia's face like
holy kisses, wiping away the evil one that had burned there but a
moment before. Groping and running she reached The Way and, from
behind a tree, paused to take breath. Never had she felt more
self-possessed or secure; her mind was clear and sane. If Crothers
came out, she could outstrip him in a race for the boarding-house, and
she meant to go to the boarding-house that night! Something within her
guided her now; something was protecting her and saving her--it was the
Woman Cynthia was by and by to be!

As the girl by the tree panted and reasoned, she saw, from the factory
window--the window of Crothers' office--a darting tongue of light;
another followed and in a moment the glass was ruddy--and smoke was
issuing from the door left open when she ran out.

"The place is on fire!" Then--"why does he not come out?"

For a moment only a madness seized Cynthia while hate and revenge had
their way:

"Let him die!" she muttered, setting her teeth close and gripping her
hands; "let him!"

But even as the words were spoken she was running back to the factory.
She rushed into the smoke-filled hallway and, by the light of the fire,
she saw Crothers lying full length where he had fallen. The flames
were feasting on the rug by the desk and the unconscious man's head lay
upon that rug!

Cynthia knelt beside Crothers and called his name, but the ugly smiling
lips made no motion of reply. Then she seized him under the arms and
frantically tugged and tugged at the heavy body. The flames were
almost at her feet, the wool of the carpet had caught first and the
licking tongues followed the burden she bore, greedily. At last she
was at the door; outside, and the safe, black night surrounded them!
She lay Crothers down and breathed fast and hard. The snowflakes were
larger; thicker now, and there was a harshness in their touch.

Presently Cynthia began to call louder and louder, and the fire gaining
power lighted the night and crackled merrily.

"Help! help! help!"

And help came. First on the scene were the boarding-house mistress and
her sons; then followed others of The Forge, and soon a group had
gathered and were aimlessly running about, giving orders and foolishly
bemoaning the havoc that was spreading.

Quite calm and uncaring Cynthia answered the questions put to her. She
defe