ion in her brain,
the dismay, the stupefaction, one dreadful fear dominated--the fear of
Brandes--the dread and horror of this Judas who had denied her.

She could not drive the scene from her mind--the never-to-be forgotten
picture where he stood with blood from his cut lip striping his fat
chin. She heard his voice denying her through swollen lips that
scarcely moved--denying that he had married her.

And in her ears still sounded the other voice--the terrible words of
the woman who had struck him--an unsteady, unreal voice accusing him;
and her brain throbbed with the horrible repetition: "Dirty dog--dirty
dog--dirty dog----" until, almost out of her mind, she dropped her bag
and clapped both hands over her ears.

One or two men stared at her. A taxi driver came from beside his car
and asked her if she was ill. But she caught up her suitcase and
hurried on without answering.

* * * * *

She was very tired. She had come to the end of the lighted avenue.
There was darkness ahead, a wall, trees, and electric lights sparkling
among the foliage.

Perhaps the sudden glimpse of a wide and star-set sky quieted her,
calmed her. Freed suddenly from the canon of the city's streets, the
unreasoning panic of a trapped thing subsided a little.

Her arm ached; she shifted the suitcase to her other hand and looked
across at the trees and at the high stars above, striving desperately
for self-command.

Something had to be done. She must find some place where she could sit
down. Where was she to find it?

For a while she could feel her limbs trembling; but gradually the
heavy thudding of her pulses quieted; nobody molested her; nobody had
followed her. That she was quite lost did not matter; she had also
lost this man who had denied her, somewhere in the depths of the
confusion behind her. That was all that mattered--escape from him,
from the terrible woman who had struck him and reviled him.

With an effort she checked her thoughts and struggled for
self-command. Somewhere in the city there must be a railroad station
from which a train would take her home.

With the thought came the desperate longing for flight, and a rush of
tears that almost choked her. Nothing mattered now except her mother's
arms; the rest was a nightmare, the horror of a dream which still
threatened, still clutched at her with shadowy and spectral menace.

For a moment or two she stood there on the curb, h