ils through the silk palms of her
gloves and sat on the edge of the seat, her pulse pounding in her ear.
Her voiceless prayer beat against her brain. She did not see or think
beyond the possibility of reaching their bedroom before her husband.

Charley was due home now--as she was lumbering across town in a
lethargic street-car. Her whole destiny hung on the frail thread of
possibility--the possibility that her husband would follow his wont of
warm nights and browse round the kitchen larder before entering their
room. She drew in a suffocating breath at the thought of Charley's
wrath--she had once seen him on the verge of anger.

To reach home and the note first! That hope beat against her temples; it
flooded her face with color; it turned her cold and clammy. She left the
car a corner too soon and ran the block, thinking to gain time over the
jogging street-car; it passed her midblock, and she sobbed in her
throat.

She turned the corner sharply. From the street she could see the yellow
glow of gas coming from a side-window of her apartment; the light must
come from one of two rooms--her sick senses could not determine which.

"Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh!" her breath came in long, inarticulate wheezes.
"Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh!" A policeman eyed her suspiciously and struck the
asphalt with his stick. She turned into the embrace of the apartment
house and ran up the three flights of stairs with limbs that trembled
under her; her cold fingers groped about before she could muster
strength to turn the key in the lock.

Lilly entered noiselessly. The bedroom was dark. Tears sprang to her
eyes. For a moment she reeled; then she felt along the parlor wall to
the middle room. By the shaft of light from the kitchen she could see
the yellow note undisturbed, poised like a conspicuous butterfly. Her
hand closed over it--she crushed it in her palm.

"Charley!" she called, and entered the kitchen.

Her husband was standing by the window--his face the white of cold
ashes. He looked up at her like a man coming out of a dream.

"Charley," she cried, "I was afraid you'd get worried. I went over to
Loo's, and we stayed up and talked so late--I didn't know--"

She stopped at the sight of his face; her fear returned.

"Charley, you--you--"

He regarded her, with the life coming back into his eyes and warming his
face.

"It's this heat; this pesky old heat almost got me!"

"My poor, sweet boy!" she said, with a sob of relief. "My poor, sweet