nd that's all it is. She's known as
'the Suicide Blonde.'"

"Say! You're bursting with information, aren't you?" It was Miss
Montague, tottering upon the brink of the grave, who voiced this
explosive inquiry. Her drooping shoulders straightened, she raised her
head and flung the empty bottle violently from her. Her face was
deathly white, to be sure, but not with darting agonies. "You know
_everything_, don't you? You make plain the past, the present, and the
future. Well, Madame Thebes, you're under the wire with the horseshoe
on your neck." With head erect and with firm tread she moved to the
door; she turned there and blazed forth in bitter scorn, her bobbed
curls shaking as she spoke: "Take that selling plater back to the car
barn, where he belongs. I'm off boobs for life. I knew you had a jinx
on me the minute I saw you, for I broke my mirror the day you breezed
in. Seven years bad luck? My God, you're all of that and more! Why,
you'd bring bad luck to a church! I'll beat it now while you give
little Rollo his bottle and rock him to sleep. If he cries, tell me
and--and I'll furnish the rock."

The door slammed to behind the diminutive fury, and Gray sank feebly
into a chair. He was laughing silently.

"By Jove! She's splendid!" he chuckled. "Buddy, I--I like that woman."

It was midforenoon of the next day. Mrs. Fulton, after a restless
night, was packing her trunks; her room was in disarray, what with open
suitcases and piles of dresses, lingerie, shoes and the like strewn
carelessly about. She had halted her labors for a second time to scan a
brief note that had arrived a few moments before and ran as follows:

DEAR MRS. FULTON,--I am not really such a bad sort as you consider me,
and I'm genuinely interested in that boy of yours. Let's cry quits and
have a serious talk about him and--perhaps other things.

Sincerely yours,

CALVIN GRAY. She was thus engaged when there came a knock, and in
answer to her voice the writer entered.

"Thank you for letting me come up," he began. "I'm becoming accustomed
to dodging chambermaids and scurrying up back stairs. But I'm looking
better, don't you think?"

"There's only one way you'd look better to me," the woman said,
unsmilingly, "and that is laid out."

"Please put me at my ease. I am physically sore and mentally
distressed."

"_You_ sore, distressed! Humph! I wouldn't have consented to see you
except for what Mallow told me. After what he said I'd like to g