ent of
life from the form whose head lay on her lap.

"Damn you," he cried furiously, his passion triumphing over his sneer.
"You damned white-faced nigger, I'll teach you to lie to a white man.
You hear me? You've had your play with me, and by Christ, I'll have mine
now."

She was as silent, as motionless as the senseless figure of the boy whom
he had felled. The very stillness startled him and fumblingly he struck
a match.

A circle of light surrounded her and he saw that they were close to the
lake where she so often walked with Bob. The light glowed on the clear,
white bark of the birch tree. It fell, too, on her face. Her head was
raised now and she looked at him, her eyes and mouth infinitely sad.
With a little gesture of her hand in dismissal, she said softly, "Go
away, please." And then forgetting him in her anxiety, she dropped her
eyes upon the wounded boy.

The match went out. All Dick could see was the bowed figure, the head
bent low as a mother bends to look at her infant. He strained his
burning eyes, striving in the darkness again to see the white face, the
curling hair. Then with a cry of pain as pitiful as that Tom had uttered
he turned and ran, stumbling on the roots hid in the grass, tearing his
clothes upon the bushes, ran blindly amid the dark, overhanging trees
until he found himself in the light of the city streets.

CHAPTER XXXIV

Kathleen was standing by her kitchen-stove looking with disgust at the
eggs and milk that she had been trying to persuade to become a custard
but that had resolved themselves into whey. The heat had been so great
she had delayed her cooking until a late hour, and now it was past time
to go to bed. With a gesture of resigned despair she walked across the
room and threw the mixture into the sink.

"It's a drear world," she remarked grimly.

Going to her window she looked out into the night. There were lights
still in a number of the flats. She could discern children sleeping on
the fire escapes, and among the sounds that rose to where she stood was
a man's harsh, drunken voice and a woman's higher, scolding tones. "'Tis
a night when eyes will be blackened," she said to herself, "more than
kitchen-stoves. Let's pray the grown-ups have it to themselves and don't
waken the kids."

In the midst of her reflections the bell rang. With another sigh of
resignation she punched the button that released the lower latch, and
going into the hall threw open her door