The Woman Alone 
 
 0f CAUF. UBHARY. I.OS
 
 The 
 Woman Alone 
 
 By 
 
 Mabel Herbert Urner 
 
 Author of "The Journal of a Neglected Wife." 
 
 Hearst's International Library Co. 
 New York 1914
 
 Copyright, 1914, by 
 HEARST'S INTERNATIONAL LIBRARY Co., INC. 
 
 All rights reserved, including the translation into foreign 
 languages, including the Scandinavian,
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I Ax IMPOSSIBLE SITUATION 1 
 
 II THE WIFE 13 
 
 III A CHANCE MEETING 27 
 
 IV TOGETHER AGAIN 38 
 
 V WEAKENING 54 
 
 VI KATHEBINE 62 
 
 VII GBOWING UNBEST 81 
 
 VIII A FALSE POSITION 90 
 
 IX COMPLICATIONS 99 
 
 X DESPONDENCY 115 
 
 XI THE ANGUISH OF LOVING 127 
 
 XII THE WIFE'S APPEAL 144 
 
 XIII A MAGAZINE STOBY 151 
 
 XIV A TBAGEDY 163 
 
 XV AN UNEXPECTED TEST 176 
 
 XVI THE TBIP TO THE COUNTBY 193 
 
 XVII THE WOMAN'S ULTIMATE DEMAND 236 
 
 XVIII DESPEBATION 250 
 
 XIX THE PRICE INEVITABLE ... . 279 
 
 2133322
 
 The Woman Alone
 
 The Woman Alone 
 
 AN IMPOSSIBLE SITUATION 
 
 THE early dusk of a grey day was gathering 
 in the long corridors of the Metropolitan 
 Museum. Margaret hurried by the statues at 
 the entrance, past the casts of early Roman glad- 
 iators, up the wide marble steps to the art gal- 
 leries. 
 
 The place was not crowded ; it was the smaller 
 and more leisurely throng of a " pay day " that 
 strolled through the rooms. In the Flemish Gal- 
 lery an art student was copying Van Dyck's Duke 
 of Lenox. Further on, another easel with a half- 
 finished sketch stood before a Rembrandt head. 
 
 At the entrance of the Catherine Wolfe Col- 
 lection, Margaret paused and swept the room 
 with a tremulous glance. He was standing be- 
 fore a picture at the far end. Instantly he
 
 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 glanced up, as though conscious of her presence. 
 Now he was hurrying towards her. 
 
 She held out her hand with an uncertain smile. 
 A strained silence followed the murmured words 
 of greeting. They turned into the next gallery. 
 She was intensely conscious that he was gazing 
 down at her as she walked beside him. She put 
 out her hand with a murmured, 
 
 " Oh, don't please don't ! " 
 
 " Forgive me. It's been so long." 
 
 "Three days?" 
 
 " Yes," bitterly, " three days." 
 
 A group of sightseers came by, intent on their 
 catalogues. Just his touch on her arm, as he 
 drew her a little aside that they might pass, 
 made her pulses throb. Even after they had 
 gone by, she still leaned slightly against him, 
 and when she drew away they were both con- 
 scious of the movement. 
 
 It seemed to Margaret that every moment she 
 was with him was weighted with an intense, 
 thrilled consciousness of his slightest act. 
 
 As they passed into the next gallery, he 
 stopped abruptly. 
 
 " I want to talk to you, Margaret. We can't 
 talk here. Let me take you to dinner to-night."
 
 AN IMPOSSIBLE SITUATION 3 
 
 " But I thought " in a low voice. 
 
 "That there was to be only an occasional 
 meeting in the Park or gallery? I'm going to 
 Denver to-morrow." 
 
 " To Denver? " The words were hardly more 
 than a whisper. 
 
 "That's why I'm asking this." 
 
 " For long? " A sick tremor was creeping 
 over her. 
 
 " For several weeks perhaps longer. The 
 Edgerton case opens there Monday. 7 ' 
 
 " And it's necessary for you to go? " 
 
 "I've decided to go." 
 
 " It is necessary 1 ! " 
 
 " I think it is." 
 
 " On account of the Edgerton case? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 "Oh," with a hysterical little laugh. "Do 
 you think that will help?" 
 
 " It may." 
 
 " Then wouldn't it have been better to go with- 
 out without even seeing me this afternoon?" 
 
 Yes." 
 
 They walked on in silence, a throbbing silence. 
 Presently he stopped her before a small Inness 
 landscape.
 
 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 " The colouring in that is good." 
 
 She made no answer. 
 
 "And that figure through the distance the 
 shadows against the tree trunk " 
 
 She made a gesture of impatience. 
 
 "And that damp, marsh-like effect of the 
 ground is well expressed." 
 
 " Oh, don't ! " It was almost a sob. 
 
 " Then will you go with me to dinner? I told 
 you we couldn't talk here." 
 
 " Oh, yes yes, anything would be better than 
 this now." 
 
 "Then come." 
 
 Though her heart seemed weighted, she 
 thrilled at his tone of command, at his impera- 
 tive touch on her arm as he guided her towards 
 the entrance. 
 
 Outside it was almost dark. The damp air 
 blew coldly into their faces as they came from 
 the heated building. Through the now heavy 
 mist the street lamps shone in yellow blurs. 
 
 He motioned to a cab. 
 
 "No, I would rather walk at least for a 
 while." 
 
 "You're not tired?" 
 
 She shook her head.
 
 AN IMPOSSIBLE SITUATION 6 
 
 "Then we'll walk down through the Park." 
 
 They turned back into the Park, which was 
 now almost deserted. The benches along the 
 pathways were empty ; the air was too chill and 
 raw for loitering. Lamps gleamed palely here 
 and there among the trees, lighting up a few 
 skeleton branches and leaving the rest massed in 
 obscurity. 
 
 A rustic bridge led over a small lake. Silently 
 they looked down at the dark water, across which 
 lay a golden bar from a solitary light on the 
 bank. Something white shone from beside a 
 projecting rock two white ducks huddling 
 close together, their heads under their wings. 
 
 The quiet and peace of it all seemed in strange 
 contrast to the roaring, glaring city just beyond. 
 And there came to Margaret the longing to hold 
 that moment the rest and security of it as 
 she leaned beside him against the rail. 
 
 Reluctantly she let him lead her on. As they 
 neared the exit, the towering buildings with their 
 myriad lights seemed like menacing sentinels 
 lest she try to put aside for more than a moment 
 the problems and difficulties that lay before her. 
 
 The walk through the Park had been almost in 
 silence, and now, as they entered the hotel res-
 
 6 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 taurant, ablaze with lights, Margaret felt her- 
 self shuddering away from the thought of words. 
 There was still a sense of nearness and under- 
 standing in their silence that she felt words 
 would dispel. 
 
 She was glad of the hovering presence of the 
 waiter, of the need to order that kept his atten- 
 tion from her for a little while. He had secured 
 a table in a secluded corner of the room, and 
 when at length the waiter hurried off they were 
 practically alcne. 
 
 Their eyas met. For a moment she looked at 
 him unwaveringly, then faltered before the un- 
 veiled tenderness in his glance. A faint colour 
 crept into her cheeks. 
 
 " Are you tired? " gently. 
 
 "A little. And let's not talk about to-mor- 
 row not just yet." 
 
 " No, dear, not yet." 
 
 He understood her mood. She wanted to put 
 it off to have at least part of their evening 
 as though to-morrow were not to be. 
 
 The orchestra in the next room was playing 
 a haunting Hungarian melody, and to Margaret 
 the minor strains seemed like the cry of her own
 
 AN IMPOSSIBLE SITUATION 7 
 
 heart in an impassioned protest against an im- 
 placable fate. 
 
 She sipped her wine with the hope that it 
 would give her courage, that it would take away 
 some of the chill weight that lay upon her. 
 
 " You'll try to eat something? " he glanced at 
 her untouched oysters. 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 They tried to talk, tried to seem natural, to 
 ignore the thing that filled both their minds. 
 But it was forced and strained, and it was Mar- 
 garet herself who gave up the effort, who swept 
 aside her own request by an abrupt, 
 
 " And you think it will help? " 
 
 " I hope it will help." 
 
 " And when you come back, you think we will 
 have ceased to care? " 
 
 " Margaret, you know I don't think that. But 
 I hope in the long absence we will have time to 
 think more clearly to realise how impossible 
 it is." 
 
 "We don't realise that now?" 
 
 "Not quite no. I find myself constantly 
 hoping, believing almost, that something will 
 happen. That some way will open up, that
 
 8 THE WO MAN ALONE 
 
 chance or fate will somehow bring things around. 
 And yet, I know it's impossible. There's noth- 
 ing that could happen that would help us 
 nothing that would not bring untold suffering 
 to some one else. And we can never take our 
 happiness that way." 
 
 " No no," in a low voice. 
 
 " There are some things to which there are no 
 solutions," bitterly. " I spend hours planning, 
 scheming, and always come back to the one thing 
 I can never leave her. It would kill her." 
 
 A long silence. He was gazing across the 
 room, his face tensely set. Margaret's hand 
 trembled as she moved her wine glass back and 
 forth. 
 
 "And when you come back " falteringly. 
 
 " When I come back, Margaret, I hope to have 
 more strength, strength enough " he hesitated. 
 
 " Not to see me." 
 
 He did not answer. 
 
 "And I I " with a stifled sob, " where will 
 7 get strength? Have you thought of that? " 
 
 " More than of anything else. But you have 
 the strength. Slight and frail as you are, you 
 have the strongest will, the most indomitable 
 pride of any woman I've ever known."
 
 AN IMPOSSIBLE SITUATION 9 
 
 "And you're counting on that? You're de- 
 pending on my pride to keep me up to lash me 
 on? Could anything be more cruel? " 
 
 Yes." 
 
 " What? " 
 
 " For me to stay, to absorb more of your youth, 
 your future when I've nothing to offer you." 
 
 A sudden reckless motion of her hand swept 
 over the wine glass. She watched the small red 
 splash slowly spread into the white cloth. What 
 was it symbolic of that slowly spreading 
 stain? What was she trying to think of? 
 
 The waiter came up, covered the cloth with a 
 napkin and refilled her glass. 
 
 " But if I should cry out that I could not bear 
 it? If my pride and strength should fail? If 
 I should break down throw everything aside 
 and send for you? " 
 
 A sudden light came into his eyes as he leaned 
 toward her. 
 
 "Margaret!" The word was like a caress. 
 
 Involuntarily he covered the hand she 
 stretched across the table, then almost at once 
 released it. Slowly the light went from his 
 eyes, and they were again sombre. 
 
 Margaret felt as though she had actually seen
 
 10 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 the crushing down of something within him 
 as though, with his strong veined hands, he had 
 subdued and broken some struggling thing. 
 When at length he answered her, his voice was al- 
 most cold. 
 
 " Should you ever send for me you know I 
 will come. But I know, Margaret, that you will 
 never send." 
 
 "Another goad to my pride," bitterly, "an- 
 other way of lashing me on! You are doing it 
 thoroughly making quite sure " 
 
 "Don't, dear," gently. "We've only a few 
 more moments and bitterness won't help us." 
 
 Only a few moments more ! She put her hand 
 to her throat. She had not realised that it was 
 late, that many diners had come and gone since 
 they were there. Only a few moments more! 
 Something like terror a panic-stricken terror 
 swept through her. 
 
 " Oh, I can't bear it ! Say something to help 
 me to make it easier ! " 
 
 "What must I say, Margaret? What can I 
 say?" Again he covered her hand with his. 
 "There is nothing I can say or do except to 
 love you enough to leave you. If I loved you 
 less if I respected you less do you think I
 
 AN IMPOSSIBLE SITUATION 11 
 
 would go away now? Oh, Margaret, Margaret, 
 don't you know it's because I love you so 
 much?" 
 
 With averted face she struggled with the chok- 
 ing sobs. 
 
 When at length they rose from the table, Mar- 
 garet was trembling so that for a moment she 
 wondered if she would have the strength to cross 
 the room. He took her cloak from the waiter 
 and put it around her. He would never let a 
 waiter help her with her wraps. 
 
 Outside, a cab was waiting. She heard him 
 give her address to the driver. It was not far 
 in a few moments they would be there. And he 
 would leave her at the door. Only a few mo- 
 ments more a few moments! 
 
 She was leaning back in the shadow of the 
 cab, her hands clasped tight in her lap. She 
 must not cry out she must not cling to him ! 
 She was saying that over and over to herself. 
 
 Suddenly he leaned forward and took both her 
 hands in his. 
 
 " Margaret, I want to leave you before we 
 reach your hotel. I want to tell you good-bye 
 here not in a glaring hotel lobby." 
 
 She made a faint motion of assent. And then.
 
 12 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 very gently, he drew her towards him, until she 
 lay within his arms. 
 
 " I love you, Margaret. I love you ! " For a 
 moment longer he held her in silence. And that 
 was all. Abruptly he released her. 
 
 Then, without stopping the cab, he threw open 
 the door and sprang out.
 
 II 
 
 THE WIFE 
 
 DEAR GRAHAM : 
 
 Now that you are really coming home, and won't think I 
 am trying to hurry you, I can say that these five weeks 
 have seemed like years. I have not known what to do with 
 myself or my time. The few days' illness I wrote you of 
 last week, was brought on by sheer loneliness and longing 
 for you. 
 
 You persuaded me not to go with you because of the 
 hardships of the trip. As though anything could be so hard 
 as the loneliness of these weeks! Oh, dear, I have missed 
 you so! Promise that you will never leave me so long 
 again. I can stand any hardship but that of separation 
 from you. 
 
 And your letters they have been so short and unsatisfy- 
 ing. Mere notes about the case and nothing almost noth- 
 ing about yourself. But then I know you have been very 
 busy and I ought not to complain. 
 
 I have had your room, the library, hall and dining room, 
 thoroughly gone over, the ceilings retouched and all the 
 wood work and floors re-oiled. I have done this because I 
 know you hate the disturbance of house-cleaning and be- 
 cause it has given me something to do. 
 
 Max misses you almost as much as I do. He wanders 
 restlessly about the house, sniffs at your chair in the dining 
 room and seems a very disconsolate dog. Yesterday, when 
 I was going over your clothes closet and straightening out 
 your things, Ellen called me away for a few moments. 
 13
 
 14. THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 When I came back Max had dragged down your bath robe 
 and was lying on it. I tried to take it from under him, but 
 he growled most fiercely. And Ellen even Ellen asks 
 anxiously every day just when you will return. So you 
 see we all are wanting you to come home, dear Max, 
 Ellen, and your wife. 
 
 MABY. 
 
 FOB the last half hour he had held the letter. 
 Now he slowly folded it, returned it to his 
 pocket, and once more gazed out at the flying 
 fields and telegraph poles. 
 
 As another train whizzed past, his face was re- 
 flected in the momentarily darkened window. 
 He was thinner and more haggard ; the five weeks 
 had left their mark. 
 
 "And do you think that will help?" How 
 those words haunted him. No, it had not helped. 
 He was coming back with a greater longing, a 
 more consuming need of her than ever. Work 
 work he would go on fighting it with work 
 ceaseless, feverish work ! He chafed against the 
 enforced idleness of these two days' travelling. 
 To-morrow he would be in his office. 
 
 But before the solace of to-morrow's work 
 lay his home-going this evening. He must meet 
 Mary kindly, he must try to respond to her ca- 
 resses. The letter in his pocket, all the letters 
 he had received in these five weeks were only
 
 THEWIFE 15 
 
 additional proofs of her love and trust, her piti- 
 ful dependence upon him. Whatever the cost of 
 dissembling he must not fail her. 
 
 It was growing dusk. The porter came 
 through and turned on the lights. The dreary 
 stretch of darkening fields outside, emphasised 
 the atmosphere of comfort, of seclusion, of 
 warmth and intimacy of the gleaming polished 
 wood, mirrors, and plush fittings of the speeding 
 car. 
 
 For a few moments he leaned back and gave 
 himself up to the thoughts and dream pictures 
 he had been fighting against all day. She was 
 there beside him ; now and then her hair brushed 
 his shoulder as he bent toward her, and some- 
 times she would lay her small ungloved hand on 
 his, as she drew his attention to something out 
 the window. She was a little tired with the long 
 trip. Her hair was slightly loosened and fell 
 carelessly around the small delicate face, which 
 seemed pale against the background of the dark 
 velvet seat. 
 
 Abruptly he rose, strode back to the observa- 
 tion car, where he walked restlessly up and down 
 the aisle. How could he hope to forget if he 
 yielded to thoughts like these?
 
 16 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 It was almost seven when at length, over an 
 hour late, they drew into Jersey City. With 
 the aid of a porter he shrugged into his overcoat, 
 gathered up his bags, and hurried out through 
 the station to the waiting ferry glad of the in- 
 clemency that drove the other passengers inside 
 and left him alone. 
 
 The scattered lights in the towering buildings 
 seemed like the still glowing frameworks of some 
 great pyrotechnic display. It was about this 
 same hour, one evening, that she had crossed the 
 ferry with him just for the effect of lights. 
 Desperately he threw the thought from him. 
 Was every hour to be stained with some memory? 
 Had he gained so little control of his thoughts? 
 
 A creaking of chains, a heavy jarring thud 
 the boat had landed. He threw his bags into the 
 first cab, and was whirled off towards his home. 
 In a few moments he must meet his wife. He 
 must think of something to say he must not 
 seem abstracted. He must do his best to make 
 her happy. 
 
 But when he ran up the wide stone steps, it 
 was with a sense of entering some one else's 
 house it seemed strangely foreign and unfa- 
 miliar. The heavy door yielded to his latch-key.
 
 THEWIFE 17 
 
 He had hardly put down the bags and thrown off 
 his coat, when Mary came running down the 
 stairs. 
 
 " Oh, Graham Graham ! " She threw her- 
 self in his arms kissing him again and again ; 
 and he hated himself for his coldness and his de- 
 sire to draw away. 
 
 " Oh, I thought you'd never come ! I was 
 growing frightened. What made the train so 
 late? " 
 
 " I wrote you it might be late ; that through 
 train often is." 
 
 " Oh, I know but not so late as this ! And 
 I wanted to come to meet you why did you 
 write me not to? " 
 
 "Just because, dear, I was afraid it would 
 be late. I didn't want you waiting down there 
 so long." 
 
 "As if I would have minded that! But I 
 mustn't keep you standing here I know you're 
 tired. Won't you come in to dinner, just as you 
 are? Ellen has it all ready, and you're too tired 
 to dress." 
 
 " No, I'll not dress, but I must freshen up some. 
 It won't take me long." 
 
 She followed him up to his room,
 
 18 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 about Mm, laid out his things, full of solicitude 
 for his comfort. 
 
 Bestive under her anxious attentions, he was 
 glad when Max came bounding into the room, 
 barking and leaping wildly about him in frenzied 
 joy. 
 
 " Down, Max ! Good old boy ! " 
 
 "Oh, Max has missed you so!" And then 
 suddenly she turned and threw her arms about 
 him. " Oh, Graham, Graham, you won't go 
 away again without taking me? Say that you 
 won't! I couldn't bear another five weeks like 
 these promise me that you never will ! " 
 
 " Why, no of course not, Mary. Why, dear 
 what's the matter?" She was sobbing 
 brokenly, her face hidden against his arm. 
 "Don't, dear don't do that. I'm not going 
 away again ! " He stroked her hair awkwardly. 
 " There now take Max down with you, and 
 I'll freshen up and come down in a moment." 
 
 When she had gone, he locked his door and 
 strode back and forth across the room with bent 
 head. It was going to be harder even than he 
 had thought. 
 
 During the dinner he tried to tell her of his 
 trip, and to seem interested in her account of the
 
 THEWIFE 19 
 
 house and servants. She was much worried 
 about his health. He assured her that he was 
 merely tired and would be all right in a few days. 
 " Shall we have the coffee in the library, to- 
 night? You'll be more comfortable and can rest 
 better there." 
 
 " Why yes, Mary, if you wish. But I'm afraid 
 I'll have to go down to the office for a little while 
 this evening, there are some letters I want to 
 get off " 
 
 "To-night when you are so tired! Surely, 
 Graham, you're not going to the office to-night? " 
 " I'm afraid I must, Mary, for a little while." 
 " But can't you write the letters here? " 
 " There are some files I must go over some 
 data I must have about a contract." 
 "And can't you do that, to-morrow?" 
 " If I get it off to-night it will reach Harden 
 Saturday. If I wait until to-morrow they won't 
 get it until Monday, and that will be too late 
 for the bids. They must get in their bids on that 
 work by twelve o'clock Monday." 
 
 Half an hour later he left the house. He 
 walked on, with bent head, unheeding the fine 
 mist that was falling. Part of it had been true. 
 Some points, as to a former contract, must reach
 
 20 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 his clients Saturday. But a telegram or even 
 a special delivery would have served his purpose. 
 
 The thought of going to the office, to-night, 
 had come as a sudden compelling impulse to 
 avoid the long evening in the library. Even as 
 he spoke he had hated the partial untruth, and 
 now he was filled with a bitter contempt of his 
 weakness. 
 
 What would be the future if the mere thought 
 of spending an evening with Mary had driven 
 him to such subterfuge? Had his love for an- 
 other woman made the mere companionship of 
 his wife unbearable? No. Fiercely he denied 
 that. He had a great respect, a great tenderness 
 for Mary which nothing could ever alter. Her 
 presence could never be distasteful. He found 
 himself repeating this over and over again. 
 
 He walked many blocks before, at length, he 
 took a car. It was just nine when he reached 
 his offices. The great building loomed up dark 
 and deserted. He greeted the night watchman 
 who sat near the door, half dozing, his chair 
 tilted back. The elevators were not running, and 
 his every step echoed through the silent, dimly 
 lit corridors as he hurried up the stairs. 
 
 At the seventh floor he turned to the right,
 
 THEWIFE 21 
 
 down a long passage, unlocked a door, passed 
 through the outer rooms to his private office. 
 The blinds were up and an electric sign across 
 the street shone through the windows, flooding 
 the place with a pale ghostly light. 
 
 A strange atmosphere of awaiting, of expect- 
 ancy, seemed over everything. All the instru- 
 ments of the busy activities of the day the 
 typewriter, the mimeograph, the telephone now 
 seemed tensely waiting for the onslaught of the 
 morrow. 
 
 Some unanswered letters lay in a wire basket 
 on his stenographer's desk, with her neatly ar- 
 ranged pencils and note books. The small nickle 
 clock she always kept there was ticking away, 
 a loud insistent sound in the still room. 
 
 He opened his desk, turned on the green 
 shaded light that hung over it; took down some 
 files, found the contract and wrote the letter. 
 He sealed and stamped it with a sense of relief, 
 not on account of the letter, but because he had 
 fulfilled the mission on which he had said he 
 must come. 
 
 And now the next few moments he claimed for 
 his own. He crossed over to a large safe near 
 the window, and swiftly worked the combination.
 
 22 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 The heavy door swung open. He unlocked the 
 inner compartment, and then took from his 
 pocket a key to a small secret drawer. A bundle 
 of letters, a long white glove, a lace handkerchief, 
 some faded flowers and a picture in its tissue 
 paper sheath lay before him. 
 
 His hand trembled as he drew out the picture. 
 The delicate profile, the slight droop of the head, 
 the sensitive mouth, the inexpressible sadness 
 and sweetness of the face. " Oh, Margaret ! 
 Margaret ! " The whispered word sounded 
 strangely in that still place. 
 
 How often in these weeks of absence he had 
 tried to fix each delicate feature in his memory 
 but something always eluded him. He took the 
 picture over and held it under the green shaded 
 desk light. Never had he felt so strongly the 
 hauntmg sadness of the face. The lips seemed 
 almost quivering into a cry of her loneliness 
 her need of him. 
 
 Her need of him nothing made it harder 
 than his realisation of that. All her life she 
 had been alone, a frail, shrinking, super-sensi- 
 tive woman forced to meet life alone to fight 
 her own way from early girlhood. She had done 
 it bravely, courageously, but with a silent suffer-
 
 THE WIFE 
 
 ing, a constant flinching and recoiling that had 
 made her withdraw more and more within her- 
 self. 
 
 He had first met her through the settling of an 
 estate of her uncle's, her only near relative, who 
 had left her a small interest in some mining 
 property. The family had tried to protest the 
 legacy, small as it was. And Margaret's pride, 
 and her willingness to relinquish her interest 
 rather than have the publicity of a suit, had 
 aroused his keenest sympathy. That had been 
 over three years ago, and he knew now that he 
 had loved her from the very beginning. 
 
 And her work the drudgery of a free lance 
 writer special articles, book reviews and short 
 stories. She had never complained, but he knew 
 how hard it was for her, how she shuddered away 
 not so much from the work itself as from the 
 need to " market " it. 
 
 And yet he was powerless to help her ; he could 
 not shield or protect or provide for her in any 
 way. Her fierce pride rose before him always 
 an insurmountable thing. Why should he go 
 on, he thought bitterly, striving to increase his 
 wealth, when he could use none of it to help the 
 woman he loved?
 
 24 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 As he stood there, still looking down at the 
 picture, his arm touched the telephone by his 
 desk, the slight jar causing the faintest whisper 
 of the bell. The telephone! All through the 
 last year it had had for him a new and wonderful 
 meaning 2589 Gramercy her number ! Her 
 voice! Every blue telephone sign in the city 
 had come to mean that to him. 
 
 And now even now he had only to take 
 down that receiver and give that number. . . . 
 The thought thrilled through him. How near it 
 brought her how it seemed to break down the 
 barriers of all these weeks. And yet the lines 
 around his mouth grew tense he could never 
 call that number again. He must face the fu- 
 ture, knowing that always by his desk was an 
 instant means of reaching her that he could 
 never use. And when he walked home, wherever 
 he went every shop and drug store would hold 
 the same possibility. 
 
 And the same condition, he knew, confronted 
 Margaret, She must make the same struggle 
 with the same temptation always near. She had 
 told him once, after a slight misunderstanding 
 which had estranged them for a week, of the 
 many times during that week she had gone to
 
 THEWIFE 25 
 
 the telephone, had sometimes even taken down 
 the receiver only to hang it back without giv- 
 ing the number. At the last moment her pride 
 would keep her from it. 
 
 Unheeding the time, he sat brooding there by 
 his desk, her picture still before him, living over 
 the hours they had spent together. It was al- 
 most midnight when at length he rose and re- 
 placed the picture in the safe. 
 
 Before he locked the compartment, he took out 
 for a moment the long white glove. Her own 
 faint fragrance hung about it yet, and the soft 
 kid seemed still to hold the delicate lines of her 
 hand. He could almost feel her small fingers 
 within his clasp. " Margaret Margaret L " 
 For a second time that night he spoke aloud her 
 name. While the word still hung on the air, 
 a shrill startling ring came from the telephone. 
 
 A telephone call at midnight in his office? 
 Mental telepathy the power of suggestion 
 all that he had ever heard of it seemed flashing 
 through his mind. Had his very longing forced 
 her to him at this time? 
 
 " Hello ! " His voice rang tense with the hope 
 that was in him. 
 
 " Oh, Graham I was afraid something had
 
 6 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 happened ! You said you'd be gone only a short 
 time and it's after twelve. Aren't you 
 through? Can't you come home now?" 
 
 It was several seconds before he answered. 
 His silence was so long that she repeated her 
 questions in alarm. 
 
 Then he said quietly : " I'm sorry you were 
 worried, Mary. I'm through and I'm leaving 
 now."
 
 Ill 
 
 A CHANCE MEETING 
 
 "TP this had not happened, if chance had not 
 
 X brought this about, would you have gone 
 on as you were? " 
 
 " Margaret, I don't know. I fought it out for 
 six months, and there was not a day in that time 
 that I did not turn to the telephone with an ir- 
 resistible longing to call you! The letters I've 
 written you and torn up! The times I've 
 walked by this hotel at night just to be near 
 you." 
 
 "And you would have gone on? Had it not 
 been for this accident we'd never have been to- 
 gether again?" 
 
 " I don't know. I tell you, I don't know! 
 But surely you know it was for your sake I was 
 making that fight that I felt it was for your 
 best good." 
 
 "And Tiers/" 
 
 " Don't, Margaret, don't be bitter now." 
 
 27
 
 28 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 " No no I shouldn't have said that. But 
 oh, I can't help shrinking from the thought that 
 we are together again merely because of an ac- 
 cident ! I can't help wishing that it was because 
 your love was stronger than your will than 
 everything else ! " 
 
 " And yet, if my love had been less I wouldn't 
 have left you when I did. Can't you understand 
 that, Margaret? " 
 
 " Yes in a way. But oh, I have suffered so 
 
 the sleepless nights the days of loneliness 
 
 all the time hoping, waiting, sometimes even 
 believing that you would come ! " 
 
 "A word from you would have brought me. 
 You know that." 
 
 " That was the hardest part of all to keep 
 from saying the word. But I could not! If I 
 had any vestige of pride I couldn't do that ! It 
 wasn't as if I had sent you away from me 
 I hadn't. You had gone because you felt it 
 was the only way. How, then, could I send for 
 you?" 
 
 " Yes, I realised that. I knew the strength 
 of your pride. And yet I never took up my 
 mail without the hope that there might be some 
 word. The 'phone never rang around eleven in
 
 A CHANCE MEETING 29 
 
 the morning that my heart did not leap with the 
 thought that it might be you." 
 
 " And one morning it was ! " 
 
 " One morning it was ? " he demanded. " What 
 do you mean?" 
 
 The colour rushed to her face. " I did call 
 you one morning." 
 
 " Darling you did? And I wasn't there? " 
 
 " Yes, you were there you spoke to me." 
 
 " I don't understand." 
 
 " I suppose I shouldn't tell you it seems so 
 weak. But I couldn't help it. I longed just 
 to hear your voice! Don't you remember one 
 morning your telephone rang and when you 
 answered there was no one there? You called 
 ' Hello ! ' several times and finally hung up the 
 receiver. Don't you remember?" 
 
 " And that was you? " 
 
 " It was the hardest thing I ever did not to 
 
 speak, to hear your voice and not answer you ! " 
 
 " Margaret, you did that and I never knew ! " 
 
 " And oh, I felt that you should have known ! 
 If there is anything in telepathy or suggestion 
 it seemed that you would feel I was there ! And 
 you didn't? The thought never came to you?" 
 
 " No, dear, not then. I think there was a
 
 30 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 stockholders' meeting in my office that morning, 
 and I was very busy perhaps that was the 
 reason." 
 
 " So it was a stockholders' meeting that ex- 
 cluded any thought of me ! " 
 
 "You know how quickly I would have ad- 
 journed that meeting, had I dreamed it was you." 
 
 He drew her toward him and kissed very gently 
 her forehead and hair. 
 
 "Oh, Margaret Margaret, these months 
 have been so hard. There were times when I felt 
 I couldn't go on. Often I've gotten up from my 
 desk and walked around my office, feeling how 
 useless it was to work. What had I to work for? 
 It all seemed so purposeless and empty without 
 you ! " 
 
 "Oh I know I know. I felt all that and 
 more. Graham, I suffered so it was so cruel ! " 
 With a sob she hid her face against his shoulder. 
 " It was so pitifully cruel ! But now we are 
 together again! We are together again! It 
 seems as if nothing else in the world matters 
 except just that." 
 
 "Yes, dear, we are together again. And yet 
 things are just as they were before. Nothing 
 has been solved no condition has been altered,
 
 A CHANCE MEETING 31 
 
 And for your sake I am afraid of the future." 
 
 For a moment he paused. She did not speak ; 
 her face was still hid against his shoulder. 
 
 " Margaret, in the past I have been strong 
 enough to shield you from myself. But I feel I 
 cannot answer for the future. You must know 
 that was why I left you, why I fought so hard to 
 stay away." 
 
 He rose and walked to the window, stood there 
 for several moments, and then turned and took 
 his seat beside her again. 
 
 "There is something else I want to say now, 
 something I feel I must say. The thought may 
 have come to you, as it has many times to me, 
 that should our love ever be complete it might 
 weaken my resolutions about her, make my sense 
 of duty to her less. Margaret, it might do all 
 that but it could not make me leave her! 
 The very fact that I felt myself weakening would 
 make me more grimly determined not to leave 
 her. It would in no way be her fault. Should 
 we be swept away by our love, we must be the 
 ones to suffer not she ! " 
 
 He was looking down at her hand that he had 
 taken in his own, musingly tracing the veins. 
 
 " I am telling you this now, that you may nevr
 
 32 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 build false hopes on something that can never be. 
 Margaret, if I had the strength to do what I 
 know is right and best for your happiness I 
 would leave you again now. Leave you in some 
 brutal way that would make any reconciliation 
 impossible." 
 
 "And again lash me on by my pride to 
 silence?" 
 
 " It would be best for you." 
 
 " And you can do that now? " 
 
 "No!" 
 
 Again he rose abruptly and walked over to the 
 window. She remained motionless, her hands 
 lying in her lap, just as he had released them. 
 
 There was a silent whirring sound from a small 
 clock on the mantel, then with irritating slowness 
 it struck five. 
 
 " That simplifies things some," he commented 
 grimly, without turning. 
 
 " How? What do you mean?" 
 
 " In the need to meet the problem of the mo- 
 ment, we can shirk those of the future. We 
 might pursue that plan and lessen our respon- 
 sibility. No doubt each day's difficulties will be 
 sufficient." 
 
 She went over to the window beside him.
 
 A CHANCE MEETING 33 
 
 " Only a few moments ago you asked me not to 
 be bitter!" 
 
 Yes, I know. I'll not be." 
 
 She laid her hand on his arm. 
 
 " What is it some early engagement with 
 Mrs. Whitman?" 
 
 Yes." 
 
 " And you must go now? " 
 
 " I should go now." 
 
 " Then go, dear. We don't want to make this 
 day, the day that has brought us together again, 
 the cause of unhappiness or even disappointment 
 to to any one." 
 
 " I thought of that." 
 
 " Then don't be late. Don't keep her waiting. 
 Oh, Graham, I feel so happy so filled with the 
 joy of just being with you again that it is 
 easy to be generous. I want to be ! No no 
 I shouldn't use that word I don't mean quite 
 that. I am in no position to be generous least 
 of all to her. I only mean oh, I don't quite 
 know how to express it ! " 
 
 " It isn't necessary, dear. I know what you 
 mean. I think I have very much the same feel- 
 ing about it. And I can still be on time, if I go 
 at once."
 
 34 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 He stooped down and kissed her gently. " I 
 suppose," with a smile that was both sad and 
 bitter, " we might express it something like this : 
 Under conditions that we know are wrong and 
 that we haven't the strength to make right 
 we are going to do the best we can." 
 
 It was almost seven before Margaret rose from 
 the chair by the window where she had been since 
 he left. The room had grown dark and still 
 she sat there. For the first time in months she 
 rested. Oh, the inexpressible peace and quiet 
 that had come to her now. The few moments 
 he had held her in his arms seemed to have drawn 
 from her the anguished ache of all these months. 
 
 He had come back he was with her again! 
 She would see him to-morrow the next day! 
 Whatever the future held they would not be 
 wholly parted again. Nothing mattered but 
 that. And as she sat there in the deepening dusk 
 there stole over her such a sense of peace, 
 of rest, as can only come with the relaxation of 
 some prolonged strain. 
 
 When at length she rose and flooded the room 
 with light, the first thing that sprang into view 
 was the telephone. How different it looked to 
 her now ! For months it had seemed to dominate
 
 A CHANCE MEETING 35 
 
 the room with its grim silence; it had been a 
 constant torturing reminder. Now the whole at- 
 mosphere of the instrument seemed different. 
 She knew now that over and over again it would 
 bring to her his voice and yet only a few hours 
 ago she had thought it never would. Only a few 
 hours but they had changed for her the whole 
 world. 
 
 If she had not gone out to-day, or if she had 
 gone a moment earlier or a moment later! If 
 she had not taken the subway, or even if she had 
 walked to the right instead of the left of that 
 crowded platform! Was it upon such trivial 
 incidents that her happiness depended? No. 
 She felt that it was infinitely more than a chance 
 meeting. 
 
 All these months she had anticipated and pre- 
 pared herself for some unexpected encounter. 
 Sooner or later, in the course of things, it would 
 come. She had pictured meeting him on the 
 street, in the park, at the theatre. They would 
 bow a brief, formal salute and pass on. 
 
 But how different it had been ! In that sway- 
 ing, throbbing moment when she saw him there 
 before her, everything else was swept away. In 
 a second he was at her side.
 
 36 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 " Margaret ! " And then he had half -led, half- 
 carried her up the steps, out of the subway and 
 into a passing taxi. From that first second she 
 knew in both their minds the thought that they 
 were together again not to separate was as in- 
 stinctive as it was fixed. 
 
 But for the half-smothered exclamation of her 
 name, no word was spoken until they had reached 
 her apartment. To Margaret that drive was only 
 a vague memory of a kaleidoscopic mingling of 
 streets and buildings which wavered before her 
 in the sunlight. 
 
 And the first half -hour in her apartment 
 she had no coherent memory even of that. She 
 only knew that she had broken down completely, 
 and that all the anguish and heartache of these 
 months she had sobbed out in his arms. 
 
 That night, before she went to bed, she knelt 
 for a long time by the open window, looking out 
 over the city with its myriad lights. How often 
 she had knelt there in the nights past the 
 weight of her loneliness and despair so heavy 
 upon her that she had sent out to him voiceless 
 cries for help. Knowing he was somewhere in 
 that great seething city, and by some power of
 
 A CHANCE MEETING 37 
 
 thought he might feel her wordless message and 
 come to her. 
 
 But now her thoughts became a half-formed 
 prayer a resolve that the great happiness that 
 had come to her to-day should never be the cause 
 of bringing unhappiness to any one else. 
 
 She repeated his words : " Under conditions 
 that we know are wrong and that we haven't the 
 strength to make right we are going to do the 
 best we can" Yes, they would do the best they 
 could.
 
 IV 
 TOGETHER AGAIN 
 
 THE happiness of the weeks that followed 
 was intensified by the long period of suffer- 
 ing that had gone before. " Just to be together 
 again," a phrase that was constantly on Mar- 
 garet's lips, seemed to fill the whole world with 
 joy. 
 
 They vied with each other now in accepting 
 cheerfully the difficulties of their position. The 
 few hours he could be with her seemed so much 
 after the silence and emptiness of the months 
 that had passed. Just a note or a few words 
 over the telephone seemed enough to fill a whole 
 day with content. 
 
 " If we might always be content with so little," 
 he said wistfully one day. 
 
 " We will we will ! " she assured him. 
 "After all, suffering has its -salutary lesson 
 and we have had ours." 
 
 The first word of protest, of discontent, came
 
 TOGETHER AGAIN 39 
 
 from him, in a note brought her by a messenger 
 one morning about a month later. 
 
 Will not be able to lunch with you as we planned. Have 
 had a rather high fever all night, and aru afraid I cannot 
 even go down to the office to-day. 
 
 If I could only see you for a few moments but I don't 
 know how it can be managed. Some one is constantly 
 about, so I cannot even 'phone from here. But you can call 
 me up. Should the maid or any one else come to the 'phone 
 just say you are a client and wish to speak to me personally. 
 I will have to be guarded in my answers. 
 
 How I hate the necessity for all these schemes and de- 
 ceptions, and I know you do too. It is a constant humilia- 
 tion to us both. Yet there seems to be no other way. I 
 feel discouraged this morning and more than usually re- 
 bellious. I want to be with you openly, without the need 
 for all these evasions and falsehoods. 
 
 I came down to the library this morning, and am lying 
 on the couch here. The 'phone is in this room, and to be by 
 it seems to bring me nearer you. Will try to send another 
 note this evening. You must not worry. It is nothing 
 serious. I'll be all right in a few days. 
 
 He was ill and she could not be with him ! 
 Her heart cried out bitterly against the condi- 
 tions that kept her from him now. All the 
 mother-love, that in some degree every woman 
 gives to the man she loves, was now aroused. 
 She wanted to nurse him, to soothe and comfort 
 him, to wait on and croon over him until he was 
 well. And she could not even see him!
 
 40 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 With eyes full of tears she turned through the 
 telephone book. As familiar as was his office 
 number, she had never telephoned to his home. 
 " Whitman, Graham K. Res. 3240 River." 
 
 She went over to the 'phone. What should she 
 say? What could she say that would cheer him? 
 He had written that he was discouraged. She 
 gave the number to Central. There was a long 
 wait. Her heart beat fast. The sound of a re- 
 ceiver being taken from the hook, and then 
 his voice! 
 
 " Oh, I'm so glad you answered ! I was afraid 
 it would be some one else." 
 
 " I've been lying here watching the 'phone and 
 wondering when it would ring. Fortunately, 
 just at this moment I'm alone. I wonder if you 
 know how much I've been thinking about you all 
 morning." 
 
 " Oh, but you are ill ! And I can't be with you 
 I can't even see you ! " 
 
 "I know. It all seems wrong somehow." 
 
 " But if you should become very ill too ill 
 to send me any message? How could I hear 
 from you ? Tell me now so I will know." 
 
 " I can't now I hear some one coming. 
 Don't worry. I'll be all right," And then, in
 
 TOGETHER AGAIN 41 
 
 an entirely different voice, a curt business voice : 
 " Yes, I expect to be down to the office in a few 
 
 " Is some one with you now? " she asked almost 
 in a whisper, as though afraid her voice would 
 carry beyond him. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " You will try to send me some message this 
 evening? " still in a whisper. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Then I will say good-bye now ; I can't bear 
 to talk to you like this." 
 
 She hung up the receiver with an unreasoning 
 sense of hurt. Even though she knew the ne- 
 cessity for the brief curtness of his replies, she 
 could not but feel chilled. That she should have 
 come into the room just then. She pictured her 
 waiting on him, looking after his medicine and 
 nourishment with an air of authority and owner- 
 ship. In vain she tried to keep the bitterness 
 out of her heart. 
 
 The day passed, filled with anxious thoughts. 
 When dusk came and brought no further mes- 
 sage, her anxiety increased. Six seven o'clock 
 and still no word from him. 
 
 She hesitated to telephone again. If he had
 
 42 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 found it impossible to even send her a note, it 
 might not be wise for her to 'phone. It was 
 about half past seven when at length she yielded 
 to an impulse that had been hovering in her 
 thoughts all day. She would drive by his house ! 
 She would get as near him as she could. Just 
 to pass by his home might help to ease her rest- 
 less anxiety. 
 
 Hurriedly she slipped into her wraps and 
 ordered a taxi. The chauffeur stared at her un- 
 usual directions merely to drive to West 
 
 Street and then go very slowly through that 
 street. 
 
 It was the theatre hour and they passed many 
 cabs and carriages from which gleamed light 
 gowns and jewels. She wished the driver had 
 taken a less crowded thoroughfare ; just now she 
 shrank from this atmosphere of gaiety. 
 
 When they neared the street, she leaned for- 
 ward tensely. Just one more block now! One 
 hundred and eighty-seven was the number. 
 With strained eyes she followed the numbers, 
 181 183 185 187 ! A large grey stone 
 house, with an air of almost stern severity. 
 Lights glimmered behind drawn blinds only on
 
 TOGETHER AGAIN 43 
 
 the first floor; the second and third story win- 
 dows were dark. 
 
 At the corner she had the cabman turn and 
 drive back slowly through the same street. As 
 they passed the house again a light flashed sud- 
 denly in the second story, and an arm with a 
 white frilled sleeve drew down one of the shades. 
 
 Margaret leaned back with a sudden faintness. 
 It was not the sleeve of a maid or nurse. It was 
 the lace frilled sleeve of a house gown! 
 
 " Where to now, ma'am? " It was the driver's 
 voice. He repeated it again before she heard 
 him. She started, and then answered dully, 
 " Back to the hotel." 
 
 That night she spent in sleepless tossing. 
 Only toward morning she fell asleep, and then 
 it was to dream that she was at the gates of a 
 wonderful garden. From within came the sound 
 of music and happy voices, and through it all 
 she heard his voice calling her, calling her again 
 and again in tones of tenderest longing. The 
 way was open, she started forward, stumbling in 
 her eagerness, when suddenly an arm with a 
 white frilled sleeve closed fast the high iron 
 gates. She beat against them until her hands
 
 44 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 were bruised and bleeding, but her cries were 
 unanswered and she was left alone in a dreary 
 wilderness. 
 
 At ten the next day there was still no message. 
 Was he worse? Was he too ill to write? Filled 
 with dread and anxiety, she stood at the window 
 looking down at the street below, watching for 
 a blue-coated messenger who might be bringing 
 some word. Twice she saw one approaching, an 
 envelope in his hand. Her heart leaped. But 
 each time the boy passed on. 
 
 At any risk she must know how he was. She 
 would telephone. It was a maid that answered, 
 she spoke brokenly and her voice was hard to 
 understand. Mr. Whitman was sick, she said, 
 and could not come to the 'phone. And when 
 Margaret asked if he was very ill worse than 
 he was yesterday she answered that she did 
 not know, that the doctor was with him now! 
 To Margaret those words seemed weighted with 
 terror. 
 
 There are times in every one's life when they 
 are swept on to some rash act, knowing it is so, 
 and yet being unable to control the impulse that 
 forces them on. And so Margaret was now help- 
 less before the reckless compelling desire to go
 
 TOGETHER AGAIN 45 
 
 to him to see Mm if possible, if not to learn 
 from some one there, from some one who knew, 
 just how ill he was. Why should she not go a 
 client calling on some urgent matter! No one 
 there knew her! 
 
 Once more she slipped into her wraps and 
 ordered a taxi. When she gave the address to 
 the driver, there was a curious note of mingled 
 defiance and fear in her voice. 
 
 The long ride through crowded thoroughfares t 
 then the same street, the same house 181! 
 The cab stopped. The man sprang from his seat 
 and opened the door. For just a second Mar- 
 garet shrank back. And then, with a sick beat- 
 ing of her heart and her limbs weak with trem- 
 bling, she stepped out and went up the steps. 
 
 A trim maid opened the door. She entered the 
 reception room and gave the girl her card. 
 
 " I should like to see Mr. Whitman." 
 
 " Mr. Whitman is ill, ma'am. I'm afraid you 
 cannot see him." 
 
 "Will you take him the card?" There was 
 something in her low tense voice that made the 
 girl hesitate, then turn to do her bidding. 
 
 In spite of the tumultuous agitation of her 
 thoughts, Margaret was keenly conscious of
 
 46 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 every detail of the room, of the brooding silence 
 of the house, the hushed pause that seemed over 
 everything. 
 
 This was his home. These things he saw and 
 touched daily. All this was a part of his life 
 the life he shared with another woman. These 
 things were their common property. She had no 
 part in it ; in all this great house there was noth- 
 ing she could claim. For a second she had a 
 fierce desire to take something away with her, 
 to assert to herself the right to it because it was 
 his. Her eyes rested on a cabinet in the corner 
 it was full of small trinkets. She half moved 
 toward it then turned quickly away, a deep 
 colour flooding her face. 
 
 Now came the sound of voices from the hall. 
 
 " I find him some better this morning, Mrs. 
 Whitman. His temperature may go up again 
 this evening, but it'll not be as high as it was 
 yesterday." 
 
 " But, doctor, he insists on being brought down 
 into the library. I don't think that's wise, do 
 you?" 
 
 " Well, no ; perhaps not for a day or two yet. 
 It's just as well to keep him as quiet as you can." 
 
 He was better! He was not seriously ill!
 
 TOGETHER AGAIN 47 
 
 Margaret forgot everything in the joy of that! 
 The outer door closed after the doctor, then a 
 tall, rather austere middle-aged woman entered 
 the room. 
 
 "Miss Warner?" glancing at the card in her 
 hand. " Mr. Whitman is quite ill ; it would be 
 impossible for him to see any one this morning. 
 I am Mrs. Whitman, if there is any message you 
 wish to leave." 
 
 " No no thank you," she murmured. " It 
 is merely a matter of business that can be 
 postponed." 
 
 Without any clear memory of how she left the 
 house, Margaret found herself outside. For 
 blocks she walked on unmindful of the direction. 
 And that was his wife his wife! In those few 
 seconds her features and expression had been 
 burnt into her memory. The strongest impres- 
 sion had been that of a cold austerity. And she 
 looked so much older than he! 
 
 An obstructed crossing finally brought her to 
 a consciousness of her surroundings. She was 
 in a neighbourhood of cheap flats and many 
 children. Several blocks farther on she caught 
 a glimpse of an elevated structure. She made 
 her way toward it.
 
 48 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 Would he know that she had been there? 
 Would her card be given him? What would he 
 think? Now the realisation of what she had 
 done of how it might appear to him began 
 to assert itself. Her face burned. Of course he 
 would know it was her anxiety that brought her. 
 And yet might he not think that her pride 
 and sense of reserve should have been stronger 
 even than that? 
 
 When she reached the hotel, there was a note 
 awaiting her. The clerk said it had come just a 
 few moments after she left. 
 
 All yesterday afternoon and evening I tried to get some 
 word to you. But it was impossible. Some one was with 
 me every moment. I knew it must seem to you that I 
 should have found some way. But I was afraid to arouse 
 suspicions that might make it difficult for us in the future. 
 I am better this morning, and am looking forward to seeing 
 you in a few days. 
 
 If she had only waited just a few moments 
 more ! Now, with the knowledge of his improve- 
 ment, her fears and anxiety seemed groundless. 
 Why had she done this thing? She had not only 
 taken an unwarranted risk, but one that had in 
 it something of indelicacy, almost of intrusion. 
 And she had always been so proudly reticent! 
 A torturing sense of regret and humiliation hung
 
 TOGETHER AGAIN 49 
 
 over her, until about five o'clock that afternoon 
 a messenger brought her another note. 
 
 I have just learned that you were here. Darling, how 
 dear of you to come! I know now how anxious you were 
 and it makes you seem very near and dear to me. I want 
 to assure you that it is all right. I thought you might be 
 worried afterward. I was simply told that a young lady 
 called on business. Evidently it made no other impression. 
 Had I only known when you were here, nothing could have 
 prevented me from seeing you. I hope you will not feel 
 hurt, dear, at the way it happened. You are so sensitive 
 that I am afraid, after yielding to your generous impulse, 
 you may now regret it. Don't, dear, for I love you more 
 than ever for this proof of your love and anxiety. 
 
 Margaret pressed her cheek against the note, 
 thrilled with a deeper realisation of his love and 
 thoughtfulness. 
 
 It was over a week before he could leave the 
 house, and when he came to Margaret she was 
 frightened at the worn haggardness of his face. 
 After the first joy of their meeting, she realised 
 that he was utterly depressed and discouraged. 
 Anxiously she pleaded with him to tell her what 
 was wrong. 
 
 " Oh, it's all been horrible ! I don't mean the 
 fever, if I could have shut myself up alone, I 
 wouldn't have minded that. But she's been with
 
 50 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 me day and night. I insisted on having a nurse, 
 but she wouldn't hear of it. She wanted to care 
 for me herself. She slept on a couch in my room 
 every time I stirred she was up. It seemed 
 as though she was trying, by her devotion, to 
 draw me back. For weeks I think she's felt that 
 I've not been the same, that in some way I was 
 drifting away from her. She doesn't suspect the 
 real cause yet but sooner or later she will." 
 
 " And if she should learn the truth? " breathed 
 Margaret. 
 
 "If she should learn the truth ... I don't 
 know what she would do I don't know. I'm 
 afraid it would be something desperate. While 
 I was sick I dreamt that they brought her home 
 to me unconscious dying. I saw them carry- 
 ing her up the stairs. She had hurled herself 
 in front of a train. Then I awoke to find her 
 sitting by my bed, reading. It struck me as par- 
 ticularly pitiful that she had rouged her cheeks 
 and wore her most elaborate negligee as though 
 to lure me back with those charms. And in spite 
 of her efforts she looked so old and worn. And 
 all the time I knew the certain wretchedness that 
 I was bringing her in one form or another. Oh, 
 it's all been ghastly!"
 
 TOGETHER AGAIN 51 
 
 " No no, listen, dear ! You mustn't say that 
 that you are bringing her certain wretched- 
 ness. You know from the beginning we both 
 said we would make any sacrifice rather than let 
 it ruin her life ! " 
 
 " We said that then, but now I know I could 
 not do it. That was one of the things I realised 
 while I was sick that whatever happened I 
 could not give you up." He drew her toward 
 him with a fierce tenderness. " I know now that 
 I never can." 
 
 And for the moment she forgot all their 
 difficulties, all the complications that sur- 
 rounded them, in the joy and sweetness of his 
 love. 
 
 Just before he left, he said hesitatingly: 
 
 "What shall we do, dear, about Sunday? 
 You know we planned last week for a long drive 
 this Sunday, and I've been looking forward to 
 it all these days. But now, Mrs. Whitman is 
 insisting that I take her to Bronxville to spend 
 Saturday and Sunday with her sister. She says 
 the change will do us both good. What can I 
 do? She's worn out with waiting on me and 
 really does need a change. I don't see how I 
 can refuse to go, yet it seems so hard to give
 
 52 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 up our outing. I don't think it's ever seemed 
 quite so hard before." 
 
 " And she won't go without you? " 
 
 " That's the trouble, she won't go anywhere 
 without me." 
 
 " Then you'll have to go with her. I under- 
 stand how impossible it would be to refuse her 
 this now. We can have our drive some other 
 time." She tried to say it cheerfully. 
 
 But when he had gone Margaret found herself 
 dwelling on the thought that he had not wanted 
 Mrs. Whitman to nurse him; she need not have 
 worn herself out. He had insisted on having a 
 nurse, and she had not permitted it. She had 
 wanted to strengthen her claim, her sense of pos- 
 session which she felt had been slipping away. 
 
 And yet could she blame her? Would she 
 not do the same in her place? It was the 
 primitive woman fighting for her mate. Many 
 thoughts now forced themselves upon Margaret 
 that she tried to shut out. She had not the 
 courage to face them. She wanted to get away 
 from them and from herself. 
 
 With a sickening sense of her own weakness, 
 she slipped down and knelt by her chair. In her 
 mind was a vague unformulated prayer that in
 
 TOGETHER AGAIN 53 
 
 some way her love might be made right that 
 it might bring no unhappiness to this other 
 woman. Could not such a love exist, a strong, 
 pure love that asked only to love and be loved, 
 without bringing misery to others? 
 
 Had fate given her this glimpse of the most 
 beautiful thing that had ever come into her life, 
 only that it might be renounced? Must she try 
 to crush it out to kill it? It would be like 
 killing some living thing. Her brain ached with 
 the burden of doubts and questions that pressed 
 upon her.
 
 WEAKENING 
 
 MARGARET found herself more and more 
 drawing away from the people she knew 
 and living only for the hours they spent together. 
 In spite of his frequent assertion that, as he 
 could be with her so little, he wished her to have 
 all the diversion she could, he was intensely jeal- 
 ous of every other interest, however trivial, in 
 her life. 
 
 If her telephone rang while he was there, he 
 would become silent and morose, and once re- 
 marked bitterly that he was always being re- 
 minded of the attention showered on her by 
 others. If he called unexpectedly and found her 
 out, he would immediately infer that she was 
 driving or dining with some one else. 
 
 Again and again she insisted that she would 
 gladly give up what little social life she had. 
 But to this he would not agree. He seemed never 
 to realise the illogicalness of his attitude in per- 
 sisting that she make no change in her social life, 
 
 54
 
 WEAKENING 55 
 
 and yet becoming so bitter over every incident 
 that resulted from it. 
 
 One afternoon he chanced to call while Mr. 
 Kenton, an editor of a magazine for which Mar- 
 garet often wrote, was there. She introduced 
 them with an easy grace, but her heart beat with 
 misgiving. Kenton, unconscious of anything 
 critical in the situation, carried the conversa- 
 tion along without effort. But Graham Whit- 
 man sat silent, his eyes dark with the rancour 
 within him. 
 
 When Kenton had gone, Margaret stood dis- 
 mayed before the fierce bitterness of his jealousy. 
 
 " Is it necessary to make a social friend of an 
 editor? Simply because he publishes some of 
 your work does not give him the right to call on 
 you socially." 
 
 " He only called about those proofs. He has 
 always been interested in my work." 
 
 "Proofs? Do you think I don't know that's 
 a mere pretext? It's not your work he is in- 
 terested in but you! He's even presumed to 
 send you flowers ! " 
 
 " But that was when I was ill." 
 
 " What right has he to send you flowers at 
 all? "
 
 56 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 She made no reply. She felt the uselessness 
 of any argument. He was in one of his unreason- 
 able jealous moods when nothing she could say 
 or do would help. He was walking nervously 
 up and down the room. At length he came over 
 and drew her toward him. 
 
 " Oh, I know, dear, I know I'm unreasonable, 
 but I can't help it. It is like hot irons searing 
 my heart when I have to stand quietly by and 
 see other men pay you attentions, other men 
 who are free to offer everything, while I am tied 
 and helpless." He clenched his hands. " It's 
 intolerable! I feel that I'm only standing in 
 your way." 
 
 " Ah, don't say that when you know . . ." 
 
 " But I've nothing to offer you ! I can give 
 you only stolen scraps of my time. I am bound 
 hand and foot to a woman that I can't desert. 
 If she were a younger woman, or less dependent. 
 . . . But to desert her now, when her need for 
 me is so great . . . you could never respect me, 
 and I could never respect myself. That would 
 always be between us." 
 
 " Oh, no no, you can't leave her. You told 
 me that in the beginning, and I said you were
 
 WEAKENING 57 
 
 right. I meant it then, and I still mean it! 
 You must believe that I do ! " 
 
 " You've been very sweet and brave about it, 
 and very patient. But that does not alter the 
 facts. It only makes me feel more keenly how 
 weak I've been in accepting your generosity, in 
 letting you give up your future for a man in my 
 position." 
 
 A moment's silence and then he went on mus- 
 ingly, 
 
 " If only she were a woman to whom money 
 would be a compensation, I would secure my free- 
 dom, sign over to her every cent I have and be- 
 gin again to work for you. But she is not a 
 mercenary woman, at least not in that sense. 
 No amount of money would compensate for a 
 separation from me. And lately she's been so 
 fearfully suspicious ! She watches every move I 
 make. I'm constantly having to tell her small 
 falsehoods. And I hate to lie ! " 
 
 " But she knows nothing? " quiveringly. 
 
 " No, but she is beginning to notice a difference. 
 I've tried very hard to be just the same to her 
 in every way, but I find myself unconsciously 
 trying to avoid her. The other night when I
 
 58 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 went home she came up to kiss me. I had just 
 been thinking of you, and instinctively I shrank 
 from her caress. I saw her grow white. She 
 said nothing at the time, but she watched me 
 furtively all through dinner. 
 
 " After dinner she wanted to go to the theatre. 
 I was tired and worried, and I'd hoped to be 
 alone part of the evening that I might write to 
 you. I felt I couldn't sit through one of those 
 mawkish sentimental plays she always selects. 
 It seemed to me that the drama I was living was 
 too real and too terrible to witness any weak 
 travesty on life and love. 
 
 " I tried to make some excuse, but she was hurt 
 and displeased. I've sacrificed my own inclina- 
 tions to hers for so long that now it's impossible 
 to change my habits without arousing her keen- 
 est suspicions. If I had done as other men, be- 
 longed to three or four clubs and spent half of 
 my evenings away from home it wouldn't be 
 so difficult now." 
 
 He had never talked so intimately of his life 
 before. He was naturally a very reticent man, 
 but now the desire to put everything before her 
 that she might understand it all was stronger 
 than his innate reserve.
 
 WEAKENING 59 
 
 " At college I was filled with an intense liter- 
 ary ambition. All my spare time I worked on a 
 book on social ethics. But after we married I 
 gave it all up for her, except a few articles I 
 wrote now and then at the office. She's not a 
 literary woman in any sense, and she was jealous 
 of the time I put on the book. She insisted that 
 if I was at the office all day, I should devote my 
 evenings to her. 
 
 " It makes me heart-sick when I think of all 
 those wasted years. I realise now that she has 
 sapped the strength of my ambitions and dwarfed 
 my whole mental life. It is not entirely her 
 fault I should have asserted my right to a 
 certain amount of independent and individual 
 life. But I began by yielding ; I followed the line 
 of least resistance. And then, too, I had the 
 theory that if in this marriage I could not be 
 happy myself, it was at least something to feel 
 that I was making her happy. And I think her 
 greatest happiness is in her sense of absolute 
 ownership of me, in the satisfaction she derives 
 from her feeling of possession." 
 
 He had ceased speaking; he was gazing out 
 of the window with eyes that were full of bitter 
 despair. Margaret longed to comfort and help
 
 60 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 him, but she could think of nothing to say. She 
 felt keenly her helplessness. 
 
 That he was growing to chafe more and more 
 under the tyranny of his home life, she knew, 
 and she was afraid of the gradual change in her 
 own feeling. The sense of pity and sympathy 
 she had at first felt for his wife was changing 
 to one of resentment and antagonism. She real- 
 ised the danger of that. She must not encourage 
 this attitude either in herself or in him. She 
 still shrank from the thought of building their 
 happiness on another woman's misery. So now 
 she only slipped her hand into his in silent sym- 
 pathy. He covered it with both his own. 
 
 " How selfish I am to inflict all this on you. 
 You've enough to bear without being burdened 
 with my part of it. Poor little girl and you 
 bear it so patiently. And I've tried to keep you 
 cooped up here away from every one, on account 
 of my morbid jealousy. But from now on I want 
 you to have all the social pleasure and diversion 
 you can, I don't think I'll hurt you about it 
 
 She smiled a little sadly. She had come to 
 realise this weakness of his love. She knew that 
 whatever he might feel now, to-morrow or the
 
 WEAKENING 61 
 
 next day he would be as blindly and unreason- 
 ably jealous as ever. In everything else he was 
 absolutely fair-minded and just, but in this one 
 thing his mind seemed perverted, he distorted 
 and exaggerated and misconstrued the most triv- 
 ial incident. 
 
 But in spite of all their difficulties and mis- 
 understandings they had many hours of unin- 
 terrupted happiness, when they both felt that life 
 was giving them of its best. Hours of tender- 
 ness and love and happy wanderings, when they 
 seemed very near each other and strong enough 
 in their love to triumph over any obstacles that 
 might arise.
 
 VI 
 KATHERINE 
 
 ONE evening as Margaret was going down 
 to a lonely dinner at the hotel, he tele- 
 phoned to ask if she would go to dinner with 
 him. She assented joyfully; it was so rarely 
 that he could take her to dinner. He said he 
 would come for her at once in half an hour. 
 
 She put on her things with eager happiness. 
 How did it happen, she wondered, that he could 
 be with her this evening. The few dinners they 
 had had together had always been planned in 
 advance, so that he might make the excuse of an 
 out-of-town client. Very often he would 'phone 
 her and they would have unexpected luncheons 
 or trips in the afternoon, but never before had 
 they had dinner in this way. 
 
 She was all ready when he came. Their mo- 
 ments together were so precious that she never 
 wasted any of them by keeping him waiting. 
 
 He held her hands tenderly. " You are won- 
 
 62
 
 KATHERINE 63 
 
 derful to-night. You seem bubbling over with, 
 happiness." 
 
 " I know," she laughed. " It's so lovely to be 
 with you like this. How did it happen? " 
 
 "I'll tell you about that at dinner. Where 
 shall we go?" 
 
 "Does it matter much where we go as long 
 as we're together? " 
 
 He smiled down at her. " No, I don't think 
 it does." 
 
 They decided on a quiet up-town place, where 
 the music was unobtrusive and the service ex- 
 cellent. On the way there, she asked him again 
 how he happened to be free, and again he put 
 the question aside. 
 
 " I'll tell you after dinner. We're going to 
 make it a happy dinner, are we not? " 
 
 She understood. He wanted to think of noth- 
 ing now, but just their being together. Other 
 things might lead to the feeling of depression 
 and discouragement that so often came over him. 
 
 And it was a happy dinner. They both 
 entered into the spirit of it with a joyous aban- 
 donment. She had never seen him more boyish, 
 more responsive. It was as though he were try- 
 ing to throw off all feeling of gloom, to wrest
 
 64< THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 from the present hour all the happiness that it 
 held. 
 
 It was not until the dinner was almost over 
 that he brought up the subject himself. 
 
 " I came because I could not help it. Because 
 I felt I would say or do something desperate if 
 I had to sit through dinner to-night listening 
 to a conversation about millinery and curtains. 
 I had about all of it I could stand this after- 
 noon." 
 
 Margaret looked her astonishment. 
 
 " For over a week Mrs. Whitman has been ask- 
 ing me to go with her to help select a hat." 
 
 "A hat?" incredulously. 
 
 "That's been part of my bondage," bitterly. 
 " For years she's not bought a hat unless I've 
 been with her. I've never been able to see where 
 I was of the least assistance. After trying on 
 every hat in the shop, she finally hesitates be- 
 tween two. And then, in order to get away 
 quicker, I advise her to take both. It's been 
 the same every Spring and Fall for years. 
 Every day for a week now she has been asking 
 me to go. So when she telephoned down to the 
 office this afternoon, I thought I might as well 
 go and have it over.
 
 KATHERINE 65 
 
 " While we were out, she insisted on getting 
 some dining room curtains. I demurred at the 
 curtains, said I was sure she could select them 
 better alone. Then I remembered a hall rug 
 she bought last week, after urging me to go with 
 her. She's been complaining about it ever since. 
 Say's it's too large, not the right colouring 
 that if I'd gone with her she'd never have bought 
 it. 
 
 " So I thought it might be easier to go with 
 her for the curtains. The strangest thing about 
 it is that I know nothing of these things, I never 
 make a suggestion she does it all. Yet she 
 always seems satisfied with what she gets if I'm 
 with her, and dissatisfied with them if I'm not." 
 
 He paused, his eyes fixed broodingly on the 
 wine glass he was moving back and forth by his 
 plate. 
 
 " Naturally, I've always disliked it, but I never 
 felt quite the repulsion that I did to-day. I 
 took her home, then said that I'd forgotten some- 
 thing at the office, for her not to wait dinner, 
 that I couldn't be back in time. I left in the 
 midst of her protests. I had to get away, I 
 couldn't go through a long dinner listening to 
 her comments on the afternoon shopping, won-
 
 66 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 dering if the hats were really worth what she 
 paid, and if the curtains might not have been 
 cheaper somewhere else." 
 
 " But you said she wasn't mercenary." 
 
 "She isn't that is she's not grasping or 
 avaricious for herself. Several times I've sug- 
 gested putting certain stocks and property in her 
 name, but she never wanted it. And often when 
 I give her money, she'll return part of it, saying 
 that she doesn't need it all. Yet she spends 
 hours studying advertisements in the papers, try- 
 ing to find where she can get a certain article 
 for the least money. To buy something for a 
 few cents less than it is worth seems to afford 
 her the greatest satisfaction. It is the small- 
 ness the pettiness of it all that . . ." 
 
 His voice broke. 
 
 " How contemptible it is for me to be talk- 
 ing of her in this way! I can't understand it, 
 but more and more lately, I find myself wanting 
 to tell you everything. I seem to forget all sense 
 of loyalty to her. And for all these years it's 
 been part of my creed that no one should know 
 that if I couldn't give her love I could at least 
 give her an absolute loyalty. And now I'm 
 not giving even that ! "
 
 KATHERINE 67 
 
 "Ah, don't don't say that! After all, if 
 we really love any one, it's only natural to want 
 to talk to that one of everything that's in our 
 heart. I don't think you should blame yourself 
 too much." 
 
 But the moodiness and depression that she had 
 learned to dread seemed with him again, and she 
 tried in vain to banish it. The charm of the 
 early part of the dinner was broken. 
 
 As they were leaving the restaurant, a slender 
 woman in evening gown, who was dining with a 
 man at a near-by table, rose and came swiftly 
 toward them. 
 
 "Margaret! Margaret Warner!" 
 
 Margaret looked at her in bewilderment, 
 
 " Why, don't you know me don't you know 
 me?" 
 
 " Katherine Beeves? " she stammered. 
 
 It was an old school friend, the most intimate 
 companion of Margaret's early girlhood, whom 
 she had not seen for years, and the surprise and 
 pleasure of this meeting was mutual. 
 
 Before they parted, Katherine insisted that 
 she take luncheon with her to-morrow. And 
 then added laughingly: 
 
 " You'd better plan to stay for dinner, too.
 
 68 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 We'll hardly have time to talk over all the things 
 we want to at a luncheon. Oh, it seems so won- 
 derful that we should both be in New York and 
 meet in this way ! " 
 
 When they were outside, Margaret turned to 
 him eagerly. 
 
 " Isn't she beautiful? She's grown into a per- 
 fectly beautiful woman ! " 
 
 As he made no answer she repeated insistently : 
 
 "Don't you think so? Don't you think she's 
 really very beautiful?" 
 
 " I suppose she would be considered so," he 
 admitted reservedly. 
 
 "You don't like her? I felt that while we 
 were talking. For some reason you're sorry we 
 met. I know I can tell by your voice." 
 
 " You can't expect me to be enthusiastic over 
 a person I have seen for only a few moments. 
 It may be a form of jealousy. You say I am jeal- 
 ous of every new interest that comes into your 
 life." 
 
 " But it's more than that this time," persisted 
 Margaret. "I feel that you do not like her." 
 
 " She wore a great many diamonds." 
 
 " Doesn't almost every one in New York? "
 
 KATHERINE 69 
 
 " Possibly, but it doesn't follow that I admire 
 them." 
 
 "It was more than the diamonds," she per- 
 sisted. " Tell me, seriously dear, what it was." 
 
 " It was only an impression, perhaps an en- 
 tirely unjust one; but somehow I don't like to 
 think of your being with her a great deal." 
 
 The morning mist had turned into a cold, driz- 
 zling rain, when Margaret reached Katherine's 
 apartment about noon the next day. It was an 
 imposing white facaded building on Central 
 Park west. A boy in uniform took her card, 
 returning in a few moments to say that "Miss 
 Eeeves would see her," and led the way to the 
 elevator. 
 
 Katherine herself opened the door, kissed her 
 impulsively and drew her into a luxuriously fur- 
 nished but much disordered bedroom. The cur- 
 tains were drawn and the room was brilliant 
 with electric lights. The air was heavy with 
 perfume. 
 
 " Come in here it's so much cozier than the 
 front room. Everything's in a muss, but you 
 won't mind that. I've kept Marie so busy this
 
 70 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 morning manicuring and massaging me that she 
 hasn't had time to straighten up in here." 
 
 Although it was after twelve. Katherine was 
 still in a morning gown of pale blue silk with a 
 great deal of lace. And Margaret realised even 
 more than she had the night before that she had 
 grown into a marvellously beautiful woman. 
 And now, as she hovered around her, taking her 
 things, arranging the pillows at her back, seem- 
 ing so glad to have her there, so full of the old 
 joyous affection in spite of Graham's words, 
 which still lingered in her thoughts, Margaret 
 felt for her a strong rush of tenderness. 
 
 "There now, are you comfortable? Marie!" 
 she called, "you might bring in some sherry. 
 Oh, yes you must have some. It's raw and 
 damp out; this will do you good." 
 
 Somehow it all brought back the old school 
 days in which Katherine had always taken care 
 of her, waited on her, mothered her. She had 
 had many faults, faults of quick temper, of reck- 
 lessness, of exaggeration, even of untruthfulness, 
 but she had always been unselfishly loving and 
 loyal. 
 
 "Do you mind these lights? Would you 
 rather I'd turn them off? I never could bear a
 
 KATHERINE 71 
 
 dark rainy day, so I shut it out and turn on all 
 the lights." 
 
 A pretty French maid came in now with a 
 small tray on which was a decanter and a couple 
 of glasses. As they sipped the sherry, Katherine 
 asked a hundred eager questions, wanting to 
 know everything at once. How long had she 
 been in New York, where had she lived, what had 
 she been doing, why had they not met before? 
 
 Margaret gave only a very brief outline of the 
 last few years, and then turned the conversation 
 to the events in Katherine's career since they had 
 been separated. The correspondence that had 
 been kept up for the first few months had soon 
 lagged and finally ceased altogether. 
 
 With all her enthusiasm, Katherine told of 
 her trip abroad, of her two years' study of music 
 in Berlin. Then she had gone to Paris, had sung 
 a number of soubrette parts in the Opera Com- 
 ique; then had come back to New York for a 
 season of concert work, and now 
 
 " Now I I'm engaged to some one I dearly 
 love and oh, Margaret, I'm very, very 
 happy ! " The words ended in a whirl as she 
 impetuously threw her arms around Margaret 
 and kissed her.
 
 72 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 " I'm so glad, dear you must know how 
 glad I am," murmured Margaret, And a vague, 
 nameless dread that had oppressed her ever since 
 she entered the apartment was lifted. She had 
 not tried to analyse the feeling, but there had 
 been something in the atmosphere of the room, 
 the luxurious furnishings, the heavy perfume, 
 the rich, lace-covered tea gown that in some way 
 had all impressed her with a vague unpleasant- 
 
 The maid came in now and announced lunch- 
 eon. Katherine led the way into the dining 
 room. 
 
 " I thought you'd rather have luncheon here 
 than go out. We can be so much more alone and 
 we've so much to talk about." 
 
 It was a small but pleasant room. The pink 
 shaded candles threw a soft glow over the 
 polished mahogany table and glittering silver. 
 A large drooping bunch of pink roses, slightly 
 faded, stood in a crystal vase on the sideboard. 
 
 During luncheon, Katherine did not again di* 
 rectly refer to her engagement. The presence 
 of the maid had a certain restraint on their con- 
 versation. 
 
 When they left the table they went through
 
 KATHERINE 73 
 
 into the front room, the drawing room of the 
 apartment. Two large low windows overlooked 
 the park. The furniture was gilt, Louis XV, 
 and was richly upholstered in pale rose damask. 
 A thick velvet carpet of the same light shade 
 covered the floor. In one corner stood a small 
 grand piano in white enamelled wood. Beside 
 being over-ornate, to Margaret it all seemed en- 
 tirely characterless. It reminded her of the 
 stage setting of a modern society play. 
 
 But Katherine's attitude was so plainly ex- 
 pectant of some notice and admiration of the 
 room that Margaret murmured something about 
 it being " very attractive." 
 
 "Yes, isn't it attractive," repeated Katherine 
 brightly, with that same childish pleasure that 
 she had always had when anything that belonged 
 to her was admired. " I love that shade of rose. 
 And isn't this a beautiful view of the park? " 
 
 It was a beautiful view, and Margaret could 
 say so honestly. 
 
 " Why, it's stopped raining ! Wouldn't you 
 like to take a drive? I want you to see * Queen 
 B.' she is a perfect beauty." 
 
 "Do you keep a horse?" 
 
 " Oh, yes," with an unmistakable note of pride.
 
 74 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 " Queen B. is almost famous. Her record two 
 years ago was 2 :13. Of course she isn't racing 
 now. I I bought her last Fall." 
 
 A thought that had been in the back-ground 
 of Margaret's mind was now forcing itself upon 
 her : the income with which to meet all this very 
 evident expense there had been, in Katherine's 
 outline of the past few years, nothing to account 
 for it. 
 
 " Come in here while I dress. It isn't three 
 yet; we'll have time for a long drive before 
 dark." 
 
 When they were again in her bedroom, she took 
 up a photograph in a heavy silver frame which 
 stood on her dressing table, and handed it to 
 Margaret. 
 
 " That's his picture and here's another." 
 From a jewel case she drew out a small diamond- 
 studded locket. 
 
 It was undoubtedly the face of a very hand- 
 some man. To Margaret it suggested the typical 
 well-groomed clubman. 
 
 " Here are some others I've a lot of kodak 
 pictures of him." 
 
 She was searching eagerly through a box filled 
 with unmounted photographs. 

 
 
 KATHERINE 75 
 
 " Here he's playing golf. And here's one 
 taken on horseback. This is on the lawn of his 
 summer home at Lake Wood here's another on 
 the veranda." 
 
 " Who's the young boy with him in this one 
 the one on the lawn? " 
 
 Margaret asked the question thoughtlessly, 
 merely from a nervous desire to say something 
 when she felt that some comment was expected. 
 To her surprise Katherine flushed, hesitated, and 
 then answered : 
 
 "That that is Clyde his son." 
 
 " Oh, I didn't know he had been married be- 
 fore," hastily, trying to cover the embarrassing 
 pause. 
 
 Katherine's face was now crimson. She was 
 staring down at one of the pictures she still held 
 in her hand. There was a silence of several mo- 
 ments. Then she said with a desperate tenseness 
 to her voice : 
 
 " He is married now. I think I would 
 rather tell you than let you find it out." 
 
 A chill weight was creeping around Margaret's 
 heart. 
 
 " I know I said we are engaged and we are. 
 He's never been happy with his wife he ex-
 
 76 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 pects to get a divorce." Katherine was now 
 looking at her almost appealingly. 
 
 " Does his wife care for him?" Margaret asked 
 in a low voice, after a moment of strained si- 
 lence. 
 
 " She doesn't care for anything except money 
 and he'll leave her plenty of that." 
 
 " But the child? " 
 
 Katherine hesitated. "Of course he doesn't 
 expect to get the separation just now not un- 
 til the boy is older. It may not be for a year 
 or so yet." 
 
 The telephone rang imperatively. Katherine 
 threw down the photographs and hurried across 
 the room. On the wall, near her bed were two 
 telephones. 
 
 "Hello!" . . . "Yes," with a joyous note in 
 her voice. "Where?" . . . "Oh, that's why 
 you didn't call me up this morning." 
 
 Margaret rose and went into the front room, 
 far over by the window. But even there she 
 could not help but hear. 
 
 " You'll be back to-morrow about four? "... 
 "Oh, did you?" . . . "No, it hasn't come yet. 
 It may be down in the office ; they're so slow here 
 about sending up packages." ..." I'm just go-
 
 KATHERINE 77 
 
 ing out. I think Queen B. needs some exercise." 
 . . . "Yes." . . . "All right, good-bye." 
 
 She came running in now, her eyes shining 
 and her whole face aglow. 
 
 " You needn't have come in here. He just 
 called me up to say that he was on his way to 
 Philadelphia, and that he'd sent me a box of con- 
 fections. There's hardly a day that he doesn't 
 send flowers or fruit." 
 
 With all her old childish irresponsibility, she 
 seemed to have entirely put aside their conversa- 
 tion of a few moments before. 
 
 "Come back in here. I'll dress right away 
 now. I believe the sun's coming out we'll 
 have a wonderful ride. Oh, first I'll see if that 
 box is down stairs." 
 
 She went ovep to the telephone but not the 
 one she had used before. 
 
 "Hello! Is there a package for me down 
 there?" ..." Send it up at once." 
 
 " Yes, it's there they're bringing it up. 
 Now what shall I wear? " 
 
 She threw open a closet door, displaying in- 
 numerable gowns. A dozen or more high-heeled 
 fancy slippers were thrown carelessly on the 
 floor.
 
 78 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 The telephone rang again a short, uncertain 
 ring. 
 
 " Oh, that's just the house 'phone ringing off," 
 as she selected a light grey walking suit. " You 
 see, I have two 'phones one is a private wire 
 to Mr. Walton's office. The telephone girls here 
 are so inquisitive, it's horrid to feel that they 
 hear everything you say. So he had that put in 
 when I took the apartment." 
 
 The maid entered now with a square white 
 package. " That must be the candy ! You open 
 it, Margaret, while I dress." 
 
 With a curious feeling of reluctance, Margaret 
 took the manicure scissors she handed her and 
 cut the string. It was a large box of bon-bons, 
 chocolates, crystallized fruits and flowers. The 
 box was fitted with small trays, each holding a 
 different confection. 
 
 " Try some of those candied violets," suggested 
 Katherine, whose hands were busy just then with 
 her hair. " The last I had from there were deli- 
 cious." 
 
 " No, not now. I don't think I care for any 
 just now." She placed the box on a chair and 
 pushed it away from her. At that moment she 
 felt that any of it would have choked her.
 
 KATHERINE 79 
 
 Katherine turned from the mirror in amaze- 
 ment. " You don't care for candy? You're not 
 going to have any?" 
 
 "Not now. I I'm afraid I'm getting a 
 headache. I'll go in here by the window while 
 you dress." 
 
 She wanted to be alone for a few moments 
 to get away from the perfumed boudoir with its 
 luxurious fittings, from the warm vivid beauty 
 of Katherine's bare arms and neck, from the in- 
 timate glimpses of expensive French lingerie. 
 Her brain was dizzy with vague thoughts and 
 doubts. The indefinable impressions that had 
 come to her when first she entered the apartment 
 were now taking form, strengthened by each suc- 
 ceeding incident. Every act of Katherine's 
 added to the doubts. 
 
 Half an hour later they entered the office of a 
 large boarding stable. Katherine explained that 
 she never telephoned for the horse to be brought 
 around, because Queen B. was too nervous to 
 stand. The stable was only a few blocks from 
 her apartment, and she usually walked around 
 for her. 
 
 As they entered the office, a sporty-looking 
 man with his hat on the back of his head and a
 
 80 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 cigar in his mouth, both of which he failed to 
 remove, came toward them. 
 
 " Queen B.," said Katherine briefly. 
 
 The man went to the door. " Bring out Mr. 
 Walton's mare ! " he yelled. 
 
 Katherine flushed crimson, but she made no 
 comment. And Margaret was glad for her si- 
 lence. It seemed to her then that any explana- 
 tion or excuse would only have made the situa- 
 tion more painful.
 
 VII 
 
 GROWING UNREST 
 
 BEFORE he spoke, Margaret knew that some- 
 thing had happened. He dropped his hat 
 and gloves on a table and stood for several mo- 
 ments silently turning over some magazines. 
 At length, without looking up, he said slowly, 
 
 " She knows. She heard me telephone you 
 last night." 
 
 Margaret caught her breath, clasping tight the 
 back of a chair. She made no attempt to ques- 
 tion him. After a little he went on in the same 
 tense, suppressed voice. 
 
 " She's been growing more and more suspi- 
 cious. For days I've felt that she's been watch- 
 ing every move I made. Last night she came 
 down into the hall and heard me 'phone to 
 you." 
 
 " Heard you? " 
 
 He smiled bitterly. " Yes, it seems she was 
 listening at the library door. The door was 
 
 81
 
 82 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 closed and I thought she was up in her room, 
 but she came down stairs and listened" 
 
 "How how much did she hear?" 
 
 " About all that I said." 
 
 "And then?" 
 
 " Then she burst into the library and admitted 
 that she had heard it all. That she listened be- 
 cause she felt she had a right to listen. Oh, I 
 can't tell you the rest there was a pitiable 
 scene. I never knew before that she was a hys- 
 terical woman." 
 
 " What did you say? What did you do? " 
 
 " I tried to soothe her. There was nothing else 
 I could do. I tried to make her think she was 
 mistaken, that she'd misunderstood much of what 
 I'd said, that it had not the meaning she thought. 
 Then she forced me to promise that I would 
 never see you again." 
 
 " And you promised? " 
 
 " I had no choice. Of course I knew I couldn't 
 keep the promise when I made it. But she was 
 desperate. I had to pacify her in every way I 
 could." 
 
 There was a moment's silence, and then he 
 added fiercely:
 
 GROWING UNREST 
 
 " I hate to lie ! And I'm being constantly 
 forced into it now." 
 
 Margaret gazed up at Mm in wretched silence. 
 She knew how he shrank from untruths, and de- 
 ceptions of every kind, and yet it was because of 
 her that they were continually forced upon him. 
 
 He threw down the magazine now and began 
 walking up and down the room as he often did 
 in tense moments. 
 
 "Last night shattered a hope that I've been 
 almost unconsciously cherishing for days. I 
 hadn't yet mentioned it to you, but lately I've 
 been hoping that after all it might be possible 
 for me some time to tell her the truth rely- 
 ing on her generosity to free me. But I know 
 now I could never tell her. She could not bear 
 it. Her sense of control, of absolute ownership 
 of me, is too strong. She could never give it 
 up." 
 
 He came over beside her and drew her gently 
 toward him. 
 
 " And now I'm afraid I can't see you as often 
 as I have at least not for a time. She's so 
 fearfully suspicious just now. It's for your 
 sake too, dear. I want to shield you all I can.
 
 84 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 As yet she doesn't know your name and she 
 must never know it." 
 
 " But that time I called when you were sick ! 
 The maid gave her my card? " 
 
 " I know ; I thought of that, but it seems she's 
 forgotten it or doesn't connect it with this." 
 
 " But you don't mean you don't think she 
 would come here or do anything like that? " 
 
 " I don't know. I don't know now what she 
 might not do. I didn't think she would listen at a 
 door. But she did that. I suppose a jealous 
 woman will do anything." 
 
 " But she's not a vindictive woman? " 
 
 " She never has been." 
 
 There was a long pause, then Margaret asked 
 hesitatingly, 
 
 " And now we will have to give up our drive 
 and dinner Saturday? " 
 
 " I'm afraid so. She's insisting that I take 
 her to Garden City for a week or ten days." 
 
 " A week or ten days ! And you are go- 
 ing?" 
 
 " I don't see how I can avoid it. We always 
 go every Spring about this time, but this year 
 I've been putting it off from week to week. Now 
 she insists on going Saturday. If I refuse, it
 
 GROWING UNREST 85 
 
 will only confirm her suspicions. But I shall 
 not stay ten days, dear, not even a week. To 
 pacify her I'll go for a few days and then find 
 some excuse to come back some business ap- 
 pointment." 
 
 The realisation that they could talk so calmly 
 about this, came to Margaret with a sudden chill. 
 A few months ago they had spoken only in awed 
 whispers of the possibility of his wife ever 
 " knowing." Now that she did know, they dis- 
 cussed it almost as a matter-of-course. Were 
 they growing hardened and callous to it all? 
 
 She did not express this thought to him, she 
 was learning to keep many of her doubts and 
 fears to herself lest they depress him more. 
 
 When he was leaving he saw the tears in her 
 eyes. He came back and took both her hands in 
 his. 
 
 " Do you want me to stay, dear? Shall I risk 
 it and refuse to go? I will if you feel that I 
 should." 
 
 " Oh, no no! It will only make things more 
 difficult if you don't go. After all, it's only for 
 a few days. I'm afraid we're both getting very 
 weak if we can't bear such a short separation." 
 
 "I know," he answered despairingly. "It
 
 86 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 seems that I haven't the strength or courage that 
 I used to have. I just want you, dear I want 
 you with me all the time, and I don't seem to 
 have the heart to struggle with conditions that 
 keep us separated." 
 
 He was to leave at four o'clock the next day. 
 He had wanted to come up at one and take her 
 to luncheon, yet she instinctively felt that the 
 luncheon would not be a happy one. They would 
 both be depressed and it would only make it 
 more difficult for him to go. In many ways she 
 felt it would be better not to see him again be- 
 fore he left. So she told him to call her up at 
 half past three and say good-bye over the 'phone 
 just before he started. 
 
 But the next morning she was restless and 
 unhappy. After all, why had she not let him 
 take her to luncheon? It could make her no 
 more unhappy than she already was. She 
 wanted to see him. Just to see and talk to him 
 for a few moments would be something. 
 
 The desire to telephone him to come for her 
 was very strong, but she did not yield to it. 
 Instead she determined to go out, to do some 
 shopping, anything to get away from herself and 
 her thoughts until it was too late for luncheon.
 
 GROWING UNREST 87 
 
 She would stay out until three o'clock until 
 just time to receive his good-bye message. 
 
 She took the subway to one of the big shops 
 and wandered around aimlessly. What was it 
 that she wanted? The toilet counter was before 
 her and she remembered she needed some denti- 
 frice. 
 
 All the clerks were busy. While she waited, 
 she glanced listlessly over the lavish display of 
 dainty bottles and boxes, the innumerable prep- 
 arations for toilet and bath. The air was heavy 
 with the mingled odours of soaps and perfumes. 
 In front of her a clerk was deftly adding up a 
 list of items on her sales book. 
 
 " Four dollars and sixty -nine cents. You wish 
 these charged?" 
 
 " Yes, they're to be charged and sent special. 
 I want them by three o'clock. You have the 
 right address? Mrs. Graham Whitman, 187 
 
 West Street, You'll not fail to send them 
 
 special ? " 
 
 She was standing so close beside Margaret that 
 her dress brushed against her as she passed. 
 
 For a moment Margaret stood motionless, then 
 turned blindly and left the shop. A fierce, sick- 
 ening jealousy clutched at her throat. " Mrs.
 
 88 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 Graham Whitman "... That was her name, she 
 was his wife, she had a right to that name ! And 
 she was buying these things to take on this trip 
 with him with him! Margaret lashed herself 
 with the torturing thoughts of all the intimacy 
 and close companionship of travelling, of life at 
 a resort hotel where he would be with her con- 
 stantly. 
 
 "Mrs. Graham Whitman" ... It was only 
 her imagination, of course, and yet it seemed as 
 if there had been a note of triumph, of the ex- 
 ultancy of possession, as she gave the name. 
 " Mrs. Graham Whitman "... Oh, it rang with 
 such intimacy! 
 
 When she reached her apartment it was just 
 two o'clock. Without stopping to consider the 
 wisdom of her impulse, she yielded to the uncon- 
 trollable desire to telephone him, to ask him 
 to come to her before he left. 
 
 He came at once, solicitous, anxious, loving, 
 for even over the 'phone he had detected a sob 
 in her voice. She threw herself into his arms 
 with an incoherent account of the incident. 
 
 "And she gave your name your name 
 Mrs. Graham Whitman! If she had only said 
 Mrs. Mary Whitman, or even Mrs. G. K. Whit-
 
 GROWING UNREST 89 
 
 man, but Mrs. Graham Whitman ! Oh, she said 
 it as though she was a part of you ! And she had 
 the things charged the bill will go to you. 
 Oh, don't misunderstand me you know I don't 
 mean . . ." 
 
 "I know what you mean, dear. And lately 
 I've had the same feeling. I've wanted to put 
 half of my property in her name so she would 
 have her own income. But she's fought against 
 it. She's always said she loved to feel that I 
 was paying for all her personal needs, that she 
 never wanted an income of her own, that it was 
 my money she wanted to feel that she was spend- 
 ing not hers. She's always been like that 
 always used every incident, every detail of life, 
 to make our relationship seem more intimate and 
 binding." 
 
 " Oh, I'm so sorry it happened," she faltered. 
 "I'm so sorry I met her. It's only increased a 
 feeling that's been growing upon me lately. The 
 sympathy and consideration I used to have for 
 her has all gone, and now now . . ." 
 
 " I know, dear," he mused sadly, " I know."
 
 VIII 
 A FALSE POSITION 
 
 ND you'll be gone a week? " 
 
 " I'm afraid it will take a full week." 
 
 " It seems hard that you must go now. You've 
 had to be away so much lately, and I feel so lost 
 so desolate when you're gone. Even when 
 I can't see you often, just to know that you're in 
 the city seems to help. I never feel quite so un- 
 happy when I know you're here." 
 
 " I would postpone this if I could, Margaret. 
 But it's that Carrington case I told you about. 
 If I'd known it in time, I'd have tried to arrange 
 for us to dine together this evening." 
 
 " And we can't? " 
 
 " I'm afraid not. The first of the week I asked 
 Mr. Barton to dine with me. He's one of the 
 other attorneys on the case. I had intended to 
 have him at the house, but two of the servants 
 are sick and Mrs. Whitman has asked me to take 
 him to a hotel. But somehow I resent the 
 
 90
 
 A FALSE POSITION 91 
 
 thought of dining out with any one but you to- 
 night," 
 
 "And she will be with you?" jealously. 
 
 " No ; her sister is in town to-day." 
 
 Margaret's face lit up suddenly ; with an eager 
 exclamation she caught his arm. 
 
 " Then then why " 
 
 " What, dear? " as she hesitated. 
 
 "No no, I think of such wild things. Of 
 course it would be impossible." 
 
 " What would? What are you thinking of? " 
 
 " Nothing. I see now it wouldn't do. But 
 just for the moment it flashed over me that I 
 might go to the same place fon dinner, and you 
 could come over to my table and be with me for 
 a few minutes. You could tell Mr. Barton that 
 I was a former client whom you hadn't seen for 
 some time." 
 
 " Would you do that, Margaret? " there was an 
 eager note in his voice. 
 
 "What restaurant are you going to?" 
 
 " It makes no difference anywhere that you 
 suggest." 
 
 " If I should go, I'd rather it would be the 
 
 Hotel where I stopped when I first came to 
 
 the city. I wouldn't mind dining there alone."
 
 92 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 " It shall be the Hotel ! That's an excel- 
 lent place to dine. And just to know you're there 
 
 to look up now and then and see you across 
 the room, will be a great deal." He smiled ten- 
 derly. " You're the dearest and most resource- 
 ful little woman in the world." 
 
 She flushed. " Sometimes I'm afraid you'll 
 think me too resourceful. It seems to me I'm 
 always so full of plans and schemes. I suppose 
 it's part of my story-writing instinct." 
 
 He was silent. 
 
 " You do think that you do feel that I'm too 
 
 resourceful?" with the hope that he would 
 deny it. 
 
 "Not quite that. I hardly know how to ex- 
 press it. I think it's partly that a man likes to 
 feel a woman's dependence upon him. But I 
 always know that you could out- wit and out-plan 
 me in any emergency. Another thing I always 
 feel so helpless before is your acting. Sometimes 
 I feel " He stopped with a sense of his in- 
 ability to make words convey what he wished. 
 
 Margaret tried in vain to keep down the quick 
 resentment which she knew was wholly unreason- 
 able. The colour flamed in her cheeks.
 
 A FALSE POSITION 93 
 
 "Don't, dear, don't feel hurt. I shouldn't 
 have said that." 
 
 " If that is what you feel, you might as well 
 say it," she interrupted coldly. 
 
 There was a silence of several moments, then 
 with one of her quick, generous impulses she 
 slipped her hand into his. 
 
 " You are right. I know there are times when 
 I do act. I can't help it. It seems part of my 
 nature. But you can always feel sure of the 
 sincerity of my love for you. You do feel that 
 don't you?" 
 
 " You know I do," he answered gently. 
 
 It was just seven when Margaret stepped from 
 a cab in front of the Hotel . In the inter- 
 vening two hours, after he had gone, she had al- 
 ternately decided to come and not to come. But 
 her desire to see and be near him again before he 
 left the city, and a certain spirit of adventure 
 (of which she was entirely conscious) overruled 
 the reluctance and timidity she could not help 
 but feel. 
 
 As she passed through the brilliantly-lighted 
 halls to the dining room, her heart beat fast and 
 the colour rushed to her face. He had said they
 
 94 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 would be on the right hand side near the wall. 
 At the entrance she gave one swift glance along 
 the tables to the right. It seemed that almost 
 instantly her eyes met his, and then, in nervous 
 confusion, before he had time to show any sign 
 of recognition, she hastily averted her gaze. 
 
 The head waiter came up and led her toward 
 the other side of the room. She followed him 
 only part of the way, then motioned her prefer- 
 ence to a table from which there was an unob- 
 structed view of where they were sitting. 
 
 She picked up the menu and kept her head 
 bowed over it. She was intently conscious that 
 he was waiting for her to look up that he might 
 make some formal sign of greeting. At length, 
 with a still deepening colour, she met his eyes 
 again and returned his bow and smile. 
 
 Still painfully self-conscious and confused, 
 even after she had given her order, she kept 
 her gaze fixed on the menu. Would he come over 
 now, or wait until they were leaving? 
 
 It was not until the oysters were served that 
 she had the courage to glance toward him again. 
 This time he did not see her; he was talking to 
 Mr. Barton. Then she discovered that the mir- 
 ror which lined the wall beside her reflected per-
 
 A FALSE POSITION 95 
 
 fectly the table at which he sat. She could 
 watch his every movement unobserved ! Now he 
 was leaning his arm on the table with a character- 
 istic grace she so loved; now he was smiling 
 slightly in response to some remark by Mr. Bar- 
 ton. With a thrill of pride she realised how dis- 
 tinguished he looked, how from the very strength 
 of his personality he seemed to stand out from the 
 men about him. 
 
 When a little later she saw him coming toward 
 her, her heart bounded to her throat. He held 
 out his hand with a few formal words, then he 
 leaned nearer and said in a low voice, 
 
 " It makes me wretched to see you over here 
 alone. Let me bring Mr. Barton over and have 
 the rest of our dinner served .here. It'll be all 
 right. I can easily say you are a client it will 
 seem quite natural." 
 
 " No no, I won't know what to say ! I shall 
 feel so awkward and self-conscious." 
 
 " You only feel that now. You'll be perfectly 
 at ease when we're over here I'm sure you 
 will ! " 
 
 He was leaving, in spite of her protests ; then 
 he turned back and murmured smilingly : 
 
 " Only you mustn't forget and call me ' dear.' "
 
 96 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 Her eyes smiled back at him. " I think I can 
 remember if you can." 
 
 In a few moments he was introducing Mr. 
 Barton to her. The slight flurry of the waiter in 
 arranging a third seat at her small two-seated 
 table helped to break any awkwardness of the 
 first few moments. Then she was surprised to 
 find that she was not as self-conscious as she had 
 been alone. She felt a sudden sureness of her- 
 self. Just to feel him beside her, had given her 
 confidence. The conversation flowed easily along 
 conventional channels. 
 
 It was not until the end of the dinner, when the 
 coffee and liqueurs were served, that Mr. Barton 
 suddenly raised his glass with the remark, 
 
 "We must drink to the absent one Mrs. 
 Whitman." 
 
 It was so unexpected, so wholly unforeseen . . . 
 
 Margaret felt her glass touch her lips. What 
 would he say? What could he say? The silence 
 was too long . . . Mr. Barton would notice ... 
 And then he said quietly, 
 
 " That was a very thoughtful toast." 
 
 "It would have completed the table to have 
 had Mrs. Whitman with us this evening," Mr. 
 Barton added courteously.
 
 A FALSE POSITION 97 
 
 " Mrs. Whitman's mother is in town and they 
 usually prefer to dine at home," in the same quiet 
 voice. 
 
 And then the conversation drifted on again. 
 Margaret realised that he was controlling it now, 
 keeping it in easy channels, making it neces- 
 sary for her to reply only in monosyllables. He 
 felt the wretchedness of the incident and was 
 doing what he could to help her. But he could 
 not take away the sense of poignant humilia- 
 tion. She had never heard "Mrs. Whitman" 
 referred to by any one else. It seemed to force 
 upon her a stinging realisation of her position. 
 
 She was passionately glad when the dinner 
 was over. Just to get away to be alone! 
 When he put her into the cab he said miserably, 
 
 "It was all my fault. I shouldn't have 
 brought him over. I see that now. It was a 
 false, strained position to place you in. I might 
 have known that something like that would hap- 
 pen." 
 
 " No no," she murmured, " it was my fault 
 too I shouldn't have come I shouldn't have 
 suggested it." 
 
 " If I could only go home with you, I could 
 keep away thoughts that I know you will have
 
 98 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 alone. But don't, dear; try not to think of it. 
 Try not to think of anything but that I love you 
 very dearly, and that nothing like this will ever 
 occur again I will shield you too carefully." 
 But there were many things she could not help 
 but think of, and her face burned against her 
 pillow until far into the night.
 
 IX 
 COMPLICATIONS 
 
 * * T DIDN'T know you had a new secretary." 
 
 JL "A new secretary? Why, I haven't. 
 What made you think that? " 
 
 " This afternoon I telephoned to your office and 
 a woman answered. She said you were out but 
 that she was your secretary, and would I not 
 leave my name and message." 
 
 "What time was that? " 
 
 " About three o'clock." 
 
 " Did you leave any message? " 
 
 " No, I just said for you to call up Miss Warner 
 when you came in." 
 
 " Did she ask for your 'phone number? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And you gave it? " tensely. 
 
 " Yes ; I said you knew it, but she insisted so 
 I repeated it. Why, dear, what's the matter? 
 What makes you look like that?" 
 
 " That was Mrs. Whitman," 
 
 99
 
 100 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 "Oh, no no! It couldn't have been." 
 
 "She was there between three and four. I 
 came in a little after four and Matthews said 
 she'd just gone." 
 
 "And I gave her my name and number!" 
 brokenly. 
 
 "You've only hastened things by perhaps a 
 few days. For weeks she's been determined to 
 find out who you are. I knew she'd succeed 
 sooner or later it had to come." 
 
 " But how could she claim to be your secretary 
 when Mr. Matthews was there? " 
 
 " It seems that she sent Matthews out on some 
 trivial errand. When I learned that, I felt she 
 had done it purposely, that she had come down 
 with the intention of going through my desk. 
 She knew I would be at a committee meeting this 
 afternoon." 
 
 "Would she do that? Would she go through 
 your private papers? " 
 
 " She would never have done it before. But I 
 think now in her desperate jealousy she would do 
 almost anything. But your letters are safe. 
 While I keep them in my desk, they are in a 
 drawer for which I had a special lock made. 
 That you should 'phone while she was there and
 
 COMPLICATIONS 101 
 
 Matthews out was, of course, an accident of which 
 she was quick to take advantage. And now that 
 she knows your telephone number she can easily 
 get the address from Central." 
 
 "But will that prove anything? You have 
 many women clients." 
 
 " Yes, but she has only to come here and en- 
 quire of the clerk to learn that I've been calling 
 here for months. If she can't get the informa- 
 tion from Mm, it wouldn't be difficult to bribe the 
 bell boys. There're a dozen ways she can find 
 out now." 
 
 "Would she come here and "bribe the 'bell 
 loys?" 
 
 He flushed slightly at the note of scorn in her 
 voice. 
 
 " Perhaps not herself. But there are detec- 
 tive agencies all over the city that do just that 
 kind of work." 
 
 " A detective? And you think . . ." 
 
 For several moments he stood moodily study- 
 ing a design in the rug. Then he said slowly, 
 
 "We must do everything we can to avoid a 
 crisis. I'm in no position either to tell her the 
 truth or leave her now. If I had done it six 
 months ago, it would not have been quite so
 
 102 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 horrible but now now . . ." He turned 
 quickly and walked toward the window. 
 
 Margaret rose and went over beside him. 
 
 " What is it, dear? You're keeping something 
 from me I have felt it for weeks. Tell me what 
 it is. Tell me, dear, and let me help you." 
 
 "No, you have enough to bear. You can do 
 nothing, and it will only make it harder for you." 
 
 " Tell me you must tell me ! You make me 
 feel that you're shutting me out of your life, of 
 the little part of your life that I can share." 
 
 " Not this I can't tell you this. I must fight 
 it out alone." 
 
 "Don't you trust me? Don't you trust me, 
 Graham? " She was sobbing now. " I can bear 
 anything but the feeling that you don't trust 
 me that you are drawing away from me." 
 
 " You know it's not that. I had only hoped to 
 spare you pain and worry but if you put it that 
 way, I will tell you, of course." 
 
 He hesitated and then said slowly, 
 
 " Whatever happens I could not leave her now, 
 for she would be penniless. In the last six 
 months I have lost about fifty thousand dollars 
 practically everything I have." 
 
 In an instant she was clinging to him, murmur-
 
 COMPLICATIONS 103 
 
 ing words of tenderest love and comfort, covering 
 his eyes and forehead with kisses. All the 
 mother love, that is a part of every woman, was 
 aroused in her now. He was in trouble in 
 sore distress. He needed her love and sympathy 
 as he had never needed it before, and she gave 
 it to him without reservation. The shyness she 
 usually felt in any voluntary caress was not 
 with her now. She was conscious only of a 
 great yearning to help him, to make him forget 
 all worry and trouble in the tenderness of her 
 love. 
 
 " I shall never forget, Margaret, that your 
 first instinct was to comfort me, not to question 
 or blame, but just to comfort. Do you know 
 you haven't yet asked me how it happened? " 
 
 " I don't think I thought of that." 
 
 "I lost it in stocks in speculating some- 
 thing I haven't done for years. I felt that if we 
 should ever begin life together, I would not want 
 it to be on the money I had earned while I was 
 with her. That if ever I left her, I should want 
 to give her everything I had made during the 
 years we'd been married. 
 
 "And for our possible future together I 
 opened an entirely new account at the Metropoli-
 
 104 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 tan Bank, hoping to build it up by extra work 
 outside my regular practice. But I grew im- 
 patient. I wanted to increase it more rapidly, 
 so I made several ventures in stocks. That was 
 just before the panic in September. When that 
 came on I lost heavily. To retrench my losses 
 I went in still deeper. I was desperate. I felt 
 that in one sense it was her money I had lost, 
 and I must make it back. Then I lost again and 
 still again. Oh, I can't talk about it" 
 
 " Listen, dear. I have some money, not very 
 much but a few thousands. Let me " 
 
 He put her from him roughly. " Do you think 
 I would touch your money? " 
 
 " But I want to help you. It would make 
 me happier than anything else in the world." 
 
 " You can help me, but not in that way. You 
 can help by being patient and cheerful. I won't 
 be able to be with you as often as I have been 
 we will have to give up a great deal. For I must 
 work I must give more time to my work now 
 than I've ever given before. There is no way to 
 get back this money but through my practice." 
 
 "And she does not know of this loss?" 
 
 " No, and I must keep it from her. She would 
 worry herself ill if she knew."
 
 COMPLICATIONS 105 
 
 It came to Margaret with a sickening sense of 
 oppression that she had been the cause of all 
 this. Had it not been for her, for his hope of 
 their future together, he would not have felt 
 the need of making these investments, and would 
 not now be facing these difficulties. 
 
 The loss of his entire fortune, the work of 
 many years aside from his anxiety about his 
 wife what would it mean to him? What ef- 
 fect would it have on his life? Even though he 
 did not now, might he not some day blame her 
 for the part, however innocent, she had had in it 
 all? 
 
 The long silence that had fallen upon them 
 was broken by a clock striking the half hour. 
 
 " Half past six ! I must go, dear. I mustn't 
 be late for dinner to-night. It would only make 
 matters worse." 
 
 After he had gone, she sat by the window 
 brooding over the hoplessness of it all. How 
 would it end? Could they ever extricate them- 
 selves from the obstacles that were thickening 
 around them? 
 
 What would be the result of the loss of this 
 money? She had a heart-sick presentiment that 
 it would mean a great deal, that while he was
 
 106 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 in no way a mercenary man, the loss of his for- 
 tune would tend to humiliate him, to decrease 
 his self-confidence and assurance. 
 
 The next morning she received this note : 
 
 Had a serious time when I reached home last night. 
 She had already found out your address and knew that I 
 had been calling there constantly. Threatened to kill her- 
 self if I ever saw you again. This morning she is still 
 hysterical. I must do what I can to pacify her. It will be 
 impossible for me to see you for several days. Try to be 
 brave and patient ; that will help me more than anything else 
 and I need help now. 
 
 After the first shock and distress of the letter, 
 a glow of love and self-sacrifice swept over her. 
 She would be brave and patient. She would 
 make no demands on him now. 
 
 She answered the note at once, saying that all 
 her love and sympathy went out to him, that 
 she knew he had much to contend with now, 
 and for him not to be worried or distressed about 
 her in any way. Even if she could not see him 
 for several days she would try to be content and 
 cheerful. And if it was difficult for him to send 
 her messages, she would not misunderstand his 
 silence. She would do all she could to help him 
 in this way, as she knew of no other; and above 
 everything else she wanted to help him.
 
 COMPLICATIONS 107 
 
 No further message came that day. The next 
 morning there was still no word. He might at 
 least have telephoned! She tried in vain to 
 crush down the sense of hurt and neglect. It 
 was not until three days later that he tele- 
 phoned. He was at once conscious of the cold- 
 ness and formality in her voice. 
 
 " You wrote me you would not misunderstand 
 my silence." 
 
 " What makes you think I have? " 
 
 "Your voice. You are hurt and indignant 
 because I took you at your word.'* 
 
 " Not at all," still coldly. 
 
 u Margaret, do you think you are being fair? 
 You promised to help me to try to be brave 
 and cheerful. I am surrounded with all kinds 
 of difficulties, and now you're going to make 
 things harder by making me feel that I've of- 
 fended you. Shall I risk everything and come 
 to see you this afternoon? " 
 
 " Oh, no no, not if it will make things more 
 difficult." 
 
 " It will. But rather than have you feel hurt 
 and neglected I will come." 
 
 "No, I don't want you to do that. I know 
 you should not take any risks now. And since
 
 108 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 you've telephoned, I will be more content. It 
 was only because I didn't hear from you at all 
 that I felt hurt." There was a tremulous note 
 in her voice now. 
 
 " Poor little girl ! It's been hard, I know. 
 It would help us both, I think, if I could see you 
 for a few moments. It would be perfectly safe 
 if we could meet somewhere just so I do not 
 come to your hotel. Would you feel hurt if I 
 should ask you to do that to meet me some- 
 where for a few moments? " 
 
 " Why should I feel hurt? " 
 
 "You're so sensitive I'm always afraid of 
 hurting you. I thought you might feel humil- 
 iated if I asked you to meet me at a subway sta- 
 tion." 
 
 " I will meet you anywhere I think you 
 ought to know that." 
 
 "Will you?" she felt the glad note in his 
 voice. "Will you come at once say in about 
 three quarters of an hour to the Grand Cen- 
 tral subway? I'll be waiting for you there 
 the down-town side." 
 
 She hung up the receiver. In three-quarters 
 of an hour she was to see him in three-quarters 
 of an hour ! She slipped into a street suit with
 
 COMPLICATIONS 109 
 
 eager happiness. The slight aversion she had 
 always had for the subway was now changed to 
 a warm liking and gratitude as it whirled her 
 toward him. 
 
 At the Grand Central he was there on the plat- 
 form, waiting to help her off. For a second he 
 held both her hands. 
 
 " It was good of you to come, Margaret." 
 
 " And you thought I would feel humiliated to 
 meet you in this way? " 
 
 " I didn't know. You are sensitive about so 
 many things." 
 
 " But I'd do anything to see you. Oh, I've 
 wanted to see you so ! " Her lips trembled. 
 
 " Margaret ! My poor darling," he murmured 
 as he bent toward her. 
 
 "What has happened tell me! Oh, I've 
 been so worried." 
 
 "I can't talk about it don't ask me, Mar- 
 garet. It has all been so wretched." 
 
 "Oh, you must tell me you must! It will 
 worry me sick if you don't I've been imagining 
 all kinds of dreadful things." 
 
 It was several moments before he spoke, and 
 then she felt it was with an effort. 
 
 " It seems that day she was down at the office
 
 110 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 she found out more than I thought. The drawer 
 in which I keep your letters, the one with the 
 special lock, she of course could not open. But 
 in the drawer underneath she found a letter that 
 in some way had slipped down from the locked 
 drawer. I suppose in opening and closing the 
 drawer this letter got caught in the back and fell 
 through." 
 
 " One of my letters? " breathlessly. 
 
 "No. The strange part of it is that it was 
 one of mine ! " 
 
 "One of yours?" 
 
 " Yes, an unfinished one. I remember one day 
 while I was writing you, some one came in, and 
 I locked the letter in the drawer with yours. It 
 was that unfinished note that fell through into 
 the draw r er below." 
 
 " What was it? What had you written ? " 
 
 " It was one of the most unfortunate things 
 she could have found. It was written the time 
 you were so ill, and was full of anxiety and solici- 
 tude about your health, and regret that I couldn't 
 be with you constantly. There was no name or 
 address, so I tried to make her believe that it 
 was merely a letter I copied, a letter given me by 
 a client as part of the testimony in a divorce case.
 
 COMPLICATIONS 111 
 
 She knows I never handle cases of that kind, but 
 for the sake of her pride she is trying to make a 
 pretence at believing it." 
 
 " Oh, I'm so sorry it happened ! But why did 
 she do that why did she go through your desk? 
 Doesn't she feel that it was a most contempt 
 that it was not an honourable thing to do? " 
 
 "Yes, she feels that keenly. She says she 
 knows it was a contemptible thing; her only jus- 
 tification is the same as when she listened at the 
 'phone that I drove her to it, that she felt she 
 must know the truth. And that same afternoon 
 she found your address and learned how often 
 I'd been calling there. She even knew I was 
 there that very afternoon." 
 
 " How could she know that? " 
 
 " She wouldn't give me the particulars. But 
 I suppose having your 'phone number she got the 
 address from Information and then sent a de- 
 tective to the hotel. I may even have been there 
 when he came." 
 
 " Oh, how dreadful ! It cheapens it all so. 
 It makes me feel Oh, it's all so humiliating ! " 
 
 "I know I feel that too. Yesterday it 
 seemed almost unbearable. That is one reason 
 I did not want to tell you. But you see now
 
 112 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 how imperative it is that I do not come to the 
 hotel. It is best not even to write or telephone 
 you there unless it's absolutely necessary. It's 
 for your sake, dear to shield you. It almost 
 maddens me when I think how little protection 
 I can give you and it must be only negative. I 
 can shield you only by remaining away from 
 you." 
 
 " Do you mean that I'm not to see you or hear 
 from you at all ? " despairingly. 
 
 " Only for a few days. I know that neither 
 of us could stand that long, but just until I have 
 time to arrange things. I thought of getting a 
 lock post-office box for each of us; in that way 
 our mail at least would be safe." 
 
 "It isn't safe now?" 
 
 " I don't know. It may be, but for your sake 
 I don't want to take any risks." 
 
 An express train thundered by, almost drown- 
 ing his voice. 
 
 " I mustn't keep you standing here. Come up 
 and let me get a taxi to take you home. 
 I don't like to think of your going back alone on 
 the subway ; it'll be crowded now." 
 
 As he led her up the steps and across the street
 
 COMPLICATIONS 113 
 
 toward a line of cabs, she was filled with a sick 
 disappointment. She had thought he would take 
 her to some restaurant a cafe some place 
 where they could be together for a little while. 
 Was she only to see him for these few moments? 
 She wanted to speak of it, to make some sugges- 
 tion, but her pride kept her silent. Perhaps he 
 had read something of her thoughts, for as he put 
 her in a cab he said longingly, 
 
 " If I could only keep you with me for a while 
 longer but I promised to be home at five." 
 
 There was a conscious pause, and then he asked 
 hesitatingly, 
 
 " Margaret, would you come here again at the 
 same time day after to-morrow? You know how 
 I hate to ask this of you, but it's the only way I 
 can safely see you now." 
 
 " I'll come gladly, dear. I haven't the feeling 
 about it that you seem to think. I would have, 
 of course, under any other circumstances. But 
 since I know it's impossible now for you to come 
 to me, there's nothing I wouldn't do to be with 
 you if only for a few moments." 
 
 "Margaret!" His lingering hand clasp was 
 like a caress.
 
 114 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 As the taxi moved off and left him standing 
 there, her heart went out to him in a rush of love, 
 and of infinite pity for all the difficulties that, 
 because of her, were now surrounding him.
 
 DESPONDENCY 
 
 THE next few weeks were filled with clan- 
 destine meetings, meetings at subway and 
 elevated stations, at banks and drug stores, stolen 
 moments of evasion and subterfuge that hurt 
 them both, that put a sense of degradation upon 
 their love that had never been there before. 
 
 She could no longer protest that she did not 
 feel the humiliation of it all. She felt it keenly, 
 but always the longing to see him was stronger 
 than everything else. 
 
 She watched with dread his growing moodiness 
 and depression. Their old hours of happiness 
 and light-heartedness were entirely gone. They 
 were weighted down now by conditions that 
 seemed daily to grow more unbearable. 
 
 Margaret's own suffering had hardened her to 
 the sufferings of his wife. Since the incident of 
 the telephone she realised how radically her feel- 
 ings had changed. Where before she had felt 
 
 115
 
 116 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 both sympathy and consideration, she now felt 
 only bitter antagonism. And more and more fre- 
 quently this bitterness and jealousy found expres- 
 sion in words. 
 
 It seemed to her that the depths of misery and 
 abasement had been reached when one day she 
 recklessly taunted him with lack of courage of 
 the courage of his love saying that if he really 
 loved her he would have long ago given up every- 
 thing for her and saved them both all this an- 
 guish. And he answered that love should not 
 mean cruelty and wreckage, that even for her he 
 could not forget entirely what he owed that poor 
 woman who was his wife. He had wronged her 
 enough. 
 
 It was the first time she had expressed in any 
 way the wish that he would leave his wife. Im- 
 mediately she tried to recall the words, saying 
 that she did not mean that, that she was nervous 
 and overwrought. 
 
 " I know," he said sadly. " I don't blame you. 
 If you've grown bitter and resentful toward her, 
 it is my fault. For months I've talked of her, 
 have told you all her faults and weaknesses. I'm 
 thoroughly ashamed of all that I've said. We've
 
 DESPONDENCY 117 
 
 come to think of her as our enemy. That is fatal ; 
 we mustn't encourage that feeling." 
 
 But unconsciously, or because they could not 
 help it, the feeling was encouraged. His resolve 
 never again to speak of his wife in any way that 
 would increase their hostility toward her was 
 broken only a few days later, when they met for 
 one of their stolen half hours. Margaret had 
 come to know at a glance when anything had hap- 
 pened ; but she had also learned never to try to 
 force his confidence. 
 
 At first he talked only of generalities, trying to 
 keep from a subject that he knew was dangerous 
 for them both. But at length he broke out in un- 
 controlled bitterness. 
 
 " I can't stand this much longer. All day yes- 
 terday I was hounded literally hounded. And 
 I suppose when I go home this evening it will be 
 the same thing." 
 
 She was silent. She had found that when he 
 was in these moods any comments or questions 
 had only a tendency to make him draw back 
 within himself. They seemed to bring him to 
 a consciousness of what he was saying, and had 
 the effect of checking any confidences of this kind.
 
 118 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 "Yesterday she wanted me to take her to 
 Bronxville to her sister's. I shrank from a Sun- 
 day of family gossip just now, so I made some 
 excuse. Then she wanted to go to Garden City 
 or to half a dozen other places she suggested. 
 Since I couldn't be with you, I wanted a quiet 
 day alone in my study. But she insisted that I 
 should take her somewhere. Finally I told her 
 I didn't want to go out. Then she accused me of 
 never wanting to take her anywhere, that she 
 knew I was planning to see you, and that she 
 didn't intend to tolerate it much longer. I didn't 
 answer her I went into the library and closed 
 the door. 
 
 "For the rest of the day she watched every 
 move I made. When I went to the corner to get 
 some cigars, I saw her at one of the upper win- 
 dows leaning far out to see which way I went. 
 And when I came back she accused me of having 
 sent some message to you. 
 
 "Then, while we were at luncheon, the tele- 
 phone rang. Susan said it was some one to speak 
 to me. It was only a client who had returned 
 to town and wanted to make an appointment for 
 to-day. I was at the 'phone such a few seconds, 
 that she didn't have time to get away, for when I
 
 DESPONDENCY 119 
 
 came out I found her listening at the door. She 
 had followed me up stairs from the dining room 
 thinking it was you who'd telephoned. That 
 makes the second time she's done that. 
 
 " I didn't say a word, but she must have seen 
 the contempt in my face. She burst into tears 
 and said what she said before that this was 
 what I had driven her to, that I knew she'd never 
 done such things, but now she couldn't help it. 
 Oh, it sickened me the whole thing sickened 
 me." 
 
 " But you don't feel that you are to blame? 
 You don't think she was justified in " faltered 
 Margaret. 
 
 " That's the worst of it I do feel that. She 
 is right ; I have driven her to this. It seems pit- 
 iable that our love should bring humiliation and 
 loss of self-respect to three people." 
 
 "Ah, don't say that!" 
 
 " It's true. Don't you think I know how all 
 these weeks of clandestine meetings have hurt 
 you? And I'm being daily forced into lies and 
 petty deceptions of all kinds." 
 
 " Then you mean you mean that our love is 
 wrong?" 
 
 He hesitated a moment, then answered :
 
 120 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 " I don't know. I only know that so far it 
 has brought only suffering to us all." 
 
 "And you can say that when you have the 
 memory of -all our wonderful hours together 
 golden hours! The most wonderful happiness 
 either of us have ever known ! " 
 
 He was silent. 
 
 The sense of a great dread and foreboding filled 
 Margaret's heart. Was this the beginning of the 
 end? Would all these difficulties and humilia- 
 tions at last make him revolt at the love that had 
 caused them? She thought of his financial loss, 
 the loss of almost his entire fortune, and of all 
 the distress that had come to him through her, 
 indirectly, of course, but still through her. A 
 man's love? After all, what did she know of a 
 man's love? The feeling of permanency and se- 
 curity she had felt in his love what had she 
 based it on? How could she know that it would 
 be strong enough to last through continued suf- 
 fering and hardships? 
 
 " Forgive me, dear. I shouldn't worry you 
 with all this. You've enough to bear as it is. 
 I think I felt unusually depressed to-day or I 
 shouldn't have brought this up. Put it all aside,
 
 DESPONDENCY 121 
 
 try to forget it ; we will find some way out of it 
 all yet." 
 
 But she knew the note of cheerfulness was 
 forced, and she went home with a sense of dread 
 still heavy within her. 
 
 With restless, almost feverish eagerness, she 
 looked forward to their next meeting, hoping it 
 would help her, that he would be different, more 
 like he used to be, that in some way he would 
 lighten this feeling of gloom that was over her. 
 And yet how often lately she had looked forward 
 to their meetings with this same hope, only to 
 come away more despondent than ever. 
 
 It was just two minutes of four the next after- 
 noon when she reached the seventy-second sub- 
 way station. She was a little surprised and hurt 
 to find that he was not already there. 
 
 While the appointment was for four o'clock, 
 he had always made it a rule to be several mo- 
 ments early. She could not recall a time in 
 which he had not been there first; he had often 
 said he never wanted to have her wait for him. 
 That humiliation, at least, he could spare her. 
 
 Pour o'clock! Five ten twenty minutes 
 after ! Her feelings alternated between anxiety
 
 122 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 and indignation. But as train after train passed 
 and did not bring him, she forgot her resentment 
 in a sick fear and apprehension. In an agony 
 of suspense she watched the crowd pour off from 
 every train as the guards swung back the gates. 
 There seemed to her something sinister in all 
 these strange faces among which she could not 
 find his. 
 
 Something had happened ! Should she go back 
 to her apartment, where he could reach her by 
 telephone? There was no way he could get any 
 message to her here. The clock over the ticket 
 agent's window pointed now to a quarter of 
 five. She would wait for one more train. 
 
 She caught a glimpse of her face in the glass 
 of a slot machine. How pale she was ! The girl 
 behind the news stand was watching her curi- 
 ously. She walked to the far end of the plat- 
 form. By leaning forward she could see the red 
 lights of a train speeding toward her through 
 the black gaping tunnel. A moment later it had 
 drawn up by the platform. The gates were open. 
 He was not there! And then she saw him 
 coming toward her hurrying from the last 
 car. 
 
 After the first throb of joy and relief, all her
 
 DESPONDENCY 
 
 indignation returned. She did not move to meet 
 him. 
 
 " I'm sorry to be late," he said quietly. 
 
 Margaret caught her breath. She had ex- 
 pected the most profuse apologies and regrets. 
 He said nothing more. In silence he led her up 
 out of the subway and through a quiet street. 
 
 At length she turned to him, her face burning 
 hotly. 
 
 "And that's all? You kept me waiting there 
 almost an hour and you've no explanations? " 
 
 "None that you would consider adequate. I 
 might invent one," bitterly. "I'm being con- 
 stantly forced into lying to her, but I'd hoped 
 that I might continue to tell you the truth." 
 
 "I don't think I understand," coldly. "Do 
 you mean that it was possible for you to have pre- 
 vented this?" 
 
 "It was possible yes." 
 
 She knew this mood; she had seen much of it 
 lately. It was a sort of defiant bitterness that 
 he had come to assume when the difficulties of his 
 position weighed too heavily upon him when 
 he felt too keenly his helplessness. That his 
 heart was full of the deepest pain and remorse 
 for having subjected her to this long wait in a
 
 124. THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 public place, she knew; and that, whatever he 
 might say, his delay had been unavoidable, she 
 also knew. She knew now that he had been de- 
 tained by Tier, for some trivial thing that he was 
 helpless to prevent, and it was that fact which 
 so embittered him. 
 
 Her resentment suddenly vanished before a 
 finer understanding and sympathy as she laid her 
 hand on his arm with a gentle, 
 
 "It's all right, dear. You need make no ex- 
 cuse or explanation. In a way I think I under- 
 stand." 
 
 Instantly his expression changed to one of 
 quivering tenderness. 
 
 " Do you mean that, Margaret that you're 
 willing to put this aside without any explanation 
 at all, to believe it was unavoidable without 
 knowing why, without even my assertion that it 
 was?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Then he stooped over her with the tone and 
 words she so loved to hear, and that he only used 
 when most deeply moved. 
 
 " Margaret, dear little girl ! " 
 
 And in that moment she felt nearer to him than
 
 DESPONDENCY 125 
 
 she had for days. There was a long, intimate 
 silence, then he said slowly, 
 
 " But I want to explain it I owe you that. 
 It is the least I can do." 
 
 "No no, not if for any reason you would 
 rather not." 
 
 " I think now I would rather tell you. I sup- 
 pose you know who it was that kept me? " 
 
 " Yes, I know now." 
 
 " She came down to the office about half past 
 three and wanted me to go with her to have a ring 
 re-set. I told her I was sorry, but that I had 
 an appointment at four. Something in my man- 
 ner and my failure to tell her what the appoint- 
 ment was must have aroused her suspicions, for 
 she became very insistent. The jeweller was 
 around on Maiden Lane and I thought I'd have 
 time to go with her and still meet you at four. 
 But she seemed to resent my haste, and did every- 
 thing she could to detain me. At the last mo- 
 ment, she decided to have two more stones added 
 to the setting and forced me to stay and help 
 select them. I felt she was doing it purposely, 
 that she believed I had an engagement with you 
 and was determined to delay me. She managed
 
 126 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 the situation so I couldn't leave without being 
 deliberately rude to her before the clerk. And 
 I couldn't do that." 
 
 " No of course not," trying to force back the 
 indignation that was again rising within her. 
 And that was why she had waited three-quarters 
 of an hour at a subway station? He had been 
 selecting jewels for her ! 
 
 " Now you're hurt ! It would have been better 
 if I'd taken you at your word and not explained. 
 You think I should have left at any risk." 
 
 " I did not say that." 
 
 " No, it wasn't necessary. I knew my explana- 
 tion would seem wholly inadequate to you it 
 does to me. And yet if it were to happen again 
 in the same way, I couldn't do differently. But 
 I see now that I should have lied to you, that I 
 should have invented some accident, something 
 that would have made it physically impossible for 
 me to get here. That would have saved your 
 sense of pride. I don't know why I didn't, ex- 
 cept that I always want to tell you the truth. I 
 feel that when we begin to lie to each other we 
 will have nothing left."
 
 XI 
 THE ANGUISH OF LOVING 
 
 WITH Catherine Beeves, Margaret's social 
 amenities had ended with the first visit. 
 Katherine had returned the call that same week 
 and since then had repeatedly telephoned her, 
 with invitations to luncheons or the matine'e. 
 But Margaret had always made excuses. 
 
 There were times when she made them reluc- 
 tantly, when she longed to flee from her own 
 brooding thoughts, when she would have been 
 glad to have been within reach of Katherine's 
 light-hearted gaiety. But she could never dis- 
 pel the impressions of her first visit, and the feel- 
 ing that for many reasons it would be best to 
 let it end there. 
 
 Her reluctance to renew the old friendship 
 with Katherine, her gradual withdrawal from 
 almost every one she knew, was the inevitable re- 
 sult of her life with him. Consciously or uncon- 
 
 127
 
 128 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 sciously, her every act was now affected by that. 
 She seemed to have lost the power of acting spon- 
 taneously; everything had to be weighed as to 
 its possible influence on their love. 
 
 It was early one Sunday morning that she re- 
 ceived a message from Katherine, saying she was 
 very ill and begging her to come. It was an ap- 
 peal that could not be refused. She hurriedly 
 ordered a cab and was dressed by the time it came. 
 Yet she was filled with reluctance, with a feeling 
 that fate was forcing her into something she 
 had tried to avoid. 
 
 It was very rare that he could be with her on 
 Sundays, but before she started she left Kath- 
 erine's telephone number at the desk, saying if 
 any one called to ask them to 'phone her there. 
 
 The door was opened by the same French maid 
 that Margaret had noticed on her first visit, 
 but now her face was full of distress. 
 
 " Miss Katherine's been crying all night she 
 won't let me send for a doctor or do anything 
 for her." There was genuine anxiety in her 
 voice. 
 
 " She's in here? " asked Margaret as she passed 
 through the hall to the bedroom. She entered 
 the darkened room and went over to the bed
 
 ANGUISH OF LOVING 129 
 
 where Katherine lay with her face to the wall. 
 
 " Oh, I was so afraid you wouldn't come," she 
 sobbed, as Margaret sat down on the edge of the 
 bed and took one of her hot hands. 
 
 " I told the maid I would when she 'phoned 
 didn't she tell you? " 
 
 " Yes yes, but I was afraid you wouldn't. 
 I wanted to send for you last night but . . ." 
 The words recalled something afresh, and she 
 burst into more violent weeping. 
 
 Margaret soothed her as best she could, but 
 already her heart was filled with an indefinable 
 dread. 
 
 " Don't cry like that, dear ; you'll only make 
 yourself worse. Nothing in life is worth such 
 tears." But she felt the hollowness of her plat- 
 itudes even as she said them. 
 
 "Oh, you don't know you don't know!" 
 moaned Katherine, turning her face back to the 
 wall. 
 
 Her heavy hair lay in a beautiful disordered 
 mass over the pillow. Through the delicate lace 
 of her nightgown could be seen the whiteness 
 of her neck and arms. Her alluring, voluptuous 
 beauty forced itself upon Margaret anew. The 
 blue satin coverlet and embroidered sheets
 
 130 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 seemed essentially a part of the atmosphere that 
 always surrounded her. 
 
 Suddenly she drew a crumpled letter from 
 under the pillow. 
 
 "It's from Ed Mr. Walton. Read it 
 turn on the lights and read it ! " 
 
 Margaret shrank back. " Oh, no no ! " 
 
 "Yes, read it!" imperatively. "I want you 
 to! I must tell some one I shall go mad if 
 I don't," 
 
 " No no, don't tell me anything now, Kath- 
 erine not while you're so excited. You might 
 regret it afterwards. One is so often sorry for 
 the things they tell in a moment of impulse." 
 
 " Oh, I don't care I don't care for anything 
 now. I never shall. He's left me! He's left 
 me!" 
 
 She half rose as she spoke and looked at Mar- 
 garet with wretched, appealing eyes, as though 
 in some vague way she hoped to have her words 
 denied, to be told that it was not true. But 
 Margaret could only gaze down at the coverlet in 
 conscious miserable silence. She lay back 
 again, smothering her sobs in the pillow. In a 
 few moments, she once more held out the letter.
 
 ANGUISH OF LOVING 131 
 
 " Read it I want you to read it." 
 
 "I can't. Don't ask me." 
 
 "Then I'll tell you. He says it's ended 
 forever ! That it'll be useless for me to make any 
 efforts to see him again. If I write my let- 
 ters will not be opened! If I 'phone he'll 
 hang up the receiver ! " 
 
 "How unutterably cruel!" breathed Mar- 
 garet. 
 
 "Cruel? He has always been cruel and 
 yet I love him I love him ! " She had half 
 risen again. " Oh, I want you to know now 
 you can think I'm bad and shameless if you 
 want. I've been everything to him for two 
 years. It never seemed wrong because I loved 
 him so! And now now he has deserted 
 me!" 
 
 "Oh, Katherine be careful! The maid is 
 in the next room," murmured Margaret, feeling 
 as though she were going to faint. 
 
 "Marie? Oh, she knows already she has 
 all along. But she adores me she's absolutely 
 loyal. But if she wasn't, I wouldn't care now ! 
 Do you understand? I don't care for anything 
 now! Oh, what shall I do what shall I do?
 
 132 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 He said lie would never leave me he swore it 
 and now now " 
 
 She was sitting up in bed, clasping her knees 
 and rocking back and forth, staring straight in 
 front of her with great grief-stricken eyes. She 
 noticed neither Margaret's silence nor her white, 
 drawn face. 
 
 " He will not even see me ! I have a box full 
 of letters vowing that he would love and protect 
 and be kind to me always and now if I 
 write my letters will not be opened, and if I tele- 
 phone he will hang up the receiver." 
 
 The last phrase she said in a sort of chant; 
 evidently she had repeated it over and over. It 
 had been seared into her mind. 
 
 For over an hour Margaret tried in vain to 
 quiet her. She persisted in torturing them both 
 by talking of the days when she had been so 
 happy with him, comparing his love and devo- 
 tion then with his cruelty now. 
 
 In her desperate, reckless grief, she seemed to 
 have lost all sense of reticence. She told of the 
 most intimate details of their lives incidents 
 before which Margaret paled and shrank. She 
 even had Marie unlock and bring to the bed a box 
 of letters. Margaret felt she could bear no more.
 
 ANGUISH OF LOVING 133 
 
 The similarity to her own box of letters was in- 
 tolerable. There were many telegrams and 
 many envelopes with special delivery stamps 
 just as there were among his letters. 
 
 When, in spite of her protests, Katherine 
 started to read aloud a note dated just a year 
 ago that day: "Sweetheart, I was so sorry I 
 could not take you out to dinner last night . . ." 
 Margaret started up with a haunted cry. 
 
 " Katherine, if you read any of those letters 
 aloud, I shall have to leave you." 
 
 Katherine let the letter slip from her hand as 
 she fell back among the pillows. She lay per- 
 fectly still. For a while, at least, she had worn 
 herself out. Margaret put the letters in the box 
 and locked them away again. Then she drew 
 a low chair by the bed and waited silently, hop- 
 ing that Katherine would fall asleep. But she 
 did not sleep. In a little while she was moaning 
 and crying again. And so it was through all 
 the long afternoon. 
 
 When it grew dusk, Margaret slipped into the 
 dining room and consulted with Marie about get- 
 ting a nurse. She felt that she could not stay 
 through the night, and Katherine was in no con- 
 dition to be left alone with a maid. But Kath-
 
 134 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 erine divined the purpose of the whispered con- 
 sultation and burst into a passionate protest. 
 
 " Don't leave me with a nurse ! If you do I 
 sTiall tell her everytMng! I know I will I 
 can't help it! I can't keep from talking about 
 it, and if a nurse is here I shall talk to her. 
 Can't you stay with me, Margaret? Can't you 
 just to-night?" 
 
 Margaret hesitated. It seemed cruel to leave 
 her and yet . . . 
 
 "I would do it for you." There was no re- 
 proach in her voice, only a note of despair. 
 
 The words swept through Margaret. She 
 knew they were true. Had their positions been 
 reversed, Katherine would not only have stayed 
 with her, but would have showered on her all the 
 wealth of love and sympathy of her nature. Her 
 loyalty, her unselfishness, her generous giving 
 up of self had been tested many times in their 
 school days. 
 
 And now with a rush of remorse Margaret 
 realised how cold and apart had been her sym- 
 pathy. How, in her heart, she had stood aloof, 
 had made no effort to control her involuntary 
 shrinking. Her attempts to soothe and quiet
 
 ANGUISH OF LOVING 135 
 
 had been merely perfunctory. A stranger would 
 have done as much. 
 
 But now she stooped over the bed and kissed 
 her with a sudden warmth. 
 
 " I'll stay, Katherine I'll stay as long as you 
 need me." 
 
 Katherine clung to her in piteous gratitude. 
 Later, when through sheer exhaustion she fell 
 asleep, Margaret went over and silently draw- 
 ing up the shade, sat by the open window. The 
 street lamps were already lit. The faint organ 
 strains of an old and familiar hymn from some 
 near-by church seemed strangely incongruous 
 with the whirling automobiles and cabs. 
 
 Mechanically her mind fitted the words to the 
 strains. And her thought drifted back to a 
 small village church where all through her child- 
 hood she had heard that hymn, where Sunday 
 after Sunday she had sat in the same hard pew 
 through long, drowsy sermons and then, in the 
 afternoon, come back for " Sunday school." 
 
 How vividly she recalled it all, even the slight 
 musty odour which seemed always to linger 
 about ; the narrow strip of carpet down the aisle, 
 the lamps with tin reflectors, which hung at
 
 136 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 intervals along the wall; the blackboard on an 
 easel, that stood in a corner during church, and 
 was brought up on the pulpit for Sunday school. 
 There was always a drawing in coloured chalk 
 to illustrate the lesson. One of them she never 
 forgot. In blue and yellow was outlined a hill 
 with two roads, one smooth and broad leading 
 around the base, with a guide post marked 
 " Road to Sin," and the other narrow and rocky 
 leading to the top, with a guide post " Way of 
 Righteousness." Over the hill was a red crown 
 and sceptre. 
 
 It was not the lesson, carefully pointed out 
 by the long index finger of the Superintendent, 
 that had so impressed her, but the wasted pos- 
 sibilities of the coloured chalk. Why had they 
 not made the hill green and the crown yellow? 
 
 She rarely heard the lessons. She would gaze 
 out of the open windows at the sunshine glisten- 
 ing on leafy tree-tops, at the birds shrilly chat- 
 tering, and dream vague, fanciful dreams of the 
 great world that lay far beyond even the farther- 
 est line of hills on the horizon, and of all the 
 wonderful things it held for her, when she 
 reached the magic "grown-up" period. 
 
 And then she would walk home through
 
 ANGUISH OF LOVING 137 
 
 shaded, sleepy streets and spend the rest of the 
 long summer afternoon lying on the grass under 
 one of the big trees in the orchard, reading some 
 romance of Scott or Bulwer Lytton, revelling in 
 chivalry and adventure, her own vivid imagina* 
 tion filling in the parts she could not under- 
 stand. 
 
 The flapping of the blind against the window 
 sill and her slight movement to adjust it, brought 
 her mind back with a start. For a moment the 
 dimly-lit room before her seemed less real than 
 the little village church and the atmosphere of 
 droning bees in the old orchard. 
 
 " Ed Ed ! " murmured Katherine in her 
 sleep. 
 
 In the street below, the dark figure of a woman 
 drew away from the man beside her and covered 
 her face with her hands. Margaret could not 
 hear her, but she knew she was weeping. A 
 street lamp lit up the man's face, which was 
 harsh and impatient. He said something, and 
 the woman shrank farther away. But he caught 
 her by the arm and drew her on. 
 
 It was only another note of the great city's 
 misery of man's brutality to woman. The 
 woman in the street below, Katherine calling
 
 138 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 her lover's name in her sleep, and her own life 
 were they but different phases? Was there an 
 inevitable destiny against which it was useless 
 to struggle? Was her love to end in misery, too? 
 Not, perhaps, in the way Katherine's had ended ; 
 but the variations of misery are infinite. 
 
 Already she saw in his failing business, his 
 reckless losses, his growing discouragement and 
 moocliness, a source of wretchedness more poign- 
 ant than that of desertion. To feel that she 
 had been the cause of wrecking the career of the 
 man she loved, of weakening his courage and 
 destroying his ambition than that, surely 
 there could be no greater anguish. 
 
 A sudden, startling ring of the telephone! 
 Before the first peal ended, Katherine had 
 sprung from the bed, crying, "Ed Ed!" and 
 was at the instrument before Margaret could 
 reach her. 
 
 A second later, it seemed to Margaret that she 
 had never seen anything so pitiful as the dying 
 out of the radiant joy and hope in her face as 
 she turned and held out the receiver with a 
 whispered, " It's for you ! " then with a moan 
 flung herself on the bed. 
 
 The dear familiarness of his voice ! For Kath-
 
 ANGUISH OF LOVING 139 
 
 erine's sake, she tried to keep the joy out of hers 
 as she answered. He said he had telephoned to 
 her apartment and they had given him this num- 
 ber. If she were coming home later, he would 
 be glad to come after her. 
 
 She explained that she could not go home, but 
 would he not call here? She did want to see 
 him if only for a few moments. He said he 
 would come at once in less than an hour. 
 
 Katherine was still sobbing heart-brokenly, her 
 face turned to the wall. 
 
 " I'm sorry, dear, I should have told you I 
 was expecting a call here." 
 
 " It will be like that all the time," she moaned. 
 "I know he'll never telephone me again I 
 know it. And yet, every time the bell rings, 
 there'll always be that wild hope that it is he! 
 Oh, I want to get away from these rooms I 
 want to go somewhere where I shall never hear 
 a telephone for the very sound means him 
 it always will." 
 
 " The very sound means him " Margaret 
 flinched at the words. For months it had meant 
 that to her. A telephone ring, even in a shop or 
 restaurant, anywhere she chanced to be, had al- 
 ways brought the same wild thought that in
 
 140 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 some way he had found out where she was and 
 was calling her. 
 
 Suddenly Katherine turned and caught her 
 hands. " Do you think he will ever come back 
 to me? Do you feel that he will? Later, when 
 he begins to miss me to realise how much I 
 was in his life? Say that you think he will 
 that if I stay here and wait in the end he will 
 come back ! " 
 
 Margaret could only hold her hands in 
 wretched helpless silence, and Katherine turned 
 once more to the wall. 
 
 "He will never come back," she whispered, 
 " he will never come back." 
 
 " If he knew you were ill and suffering like 
 this . . ." 
 
 Katherine laughed hysterically. " He antici- 
 pated that one of the last things he said was 
 for me never to get sick and send for him." 
 
 "Katherine, Katherine, can't you see the de- 
 liberate calculated cruelty of such a remark 
 and the nature of the man who could say that? 
 Can't you realise that he isn't worth your griev- 
 ing?" 
 
 "And do you think that, or anything else, 
 would make any difference? I love him ! " 

 
 ANGUISH OF LOVING 141 
 
 Before that unswearable argument Margaret 
 was silent. 
 
 Fearing the shock of another unexpected ring, 
 she explained a little later that some one was to 
 call. 
 
 " You'll not mind if I leave you for a few mo- 
 ments? I'll see them down in the reception 
 room and come back at once." 
 
 " But you needn't go down there," suggested 
 Katherine weakly. "You can receive any one 
 right here in the front room or the library." 
 
 "That will not be worth while. It'll be for 
 only a few moments, and I'd just as soon go 
 down." 
 
 Involuntarily she recoiled from the thought of 
 seeing him in that apartment, and was relieved 
 that Katherine offered no further protest. 
 
 A few moments later she went down to meet 
 him. He was standing by the window. There 
 was no one else in the reception room. He came 
 forward and took both her hands. 
 
 " Margaret ! What is it? I've never seen you 
 look so pale and tired." 
 
 "It's Katherine Katherine Beeves; she's 
 quite ill. I can't tell you about it don't ask 
 me! But say something to drive away these
 
 142 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 cold horrors ! Tell me that you love me that 
 you're true and sincere that you always will 
 be that " 
 
 "Sweetheart sweetheart! You're all un- 
 strung! Come over here." He led her to a di- 
 van. " You know I love you. Do I need to tell 
 you that? And I love you too much to let you 
 stay here. You're too sensitive to be around 
 any one who's sick. I'm going to take you home." 
 
 " No no, I must stay ! She needs me she 
 needs me piteously. She won't let me send for a 
 nurse she would rather be alone." 
 
 " There's no nurse? You're alone with her? " 
 he demanded sternly. 
 
 " It's not a case for a nurse. I can't tell you 
 about it but I must stay. It would be cruel 
 if I left her to-night." 
 
 Keluctantly he yielded. Perhaps he divined 
 something of what it was, for he gave her un- 
 stintedly of what she most wanted ; he responded 
 generously to her need. Never had he made her 
 feel more deeply the strength and earnestness of 
 his love, never had she felt more sure of its en- 
 durance. Even after he had gone, his words 
 seemed still to surround her with an atmosphere 
 of warmth, of protection, of security.
 
 ANGUISH OF LOVING 143 
 
 Katherine was lying as she had left her, still 
 moaning, 
 
 "Ed Ed!" 
 
 With a deepening pity and tenderness that 
 came from the warmth and glow of her own hap- 
 pier love, Margaret lay down beside her and 
 drew her into her arms.
 
 XII 
 THE WIFE'S APPEAL 
 
 THE house was dark except for a faint light 
 in the hall. He looked at his watch. It 
 was half past one. After leaving Margaret he 
 had taken a long, wandering walk, his mind full 
 of her and of her involuntary appeal. Stronger 
 than usual was his reluctance to meet the ques- 
 tions and suspicions that awaited him at home. 
 
 And now, late as it was, he went back into the 
 library, turned on the shaded light, drew up an 
 easy chair, and reached over for cigars and 
 matches. He felt he could not go up stairs just 
 yet; the possibility of finding her still awake, of 
 having to listen to complaints and reproaches, 
 was one he could not meet just then. He wanted 
 to be alone with his thoughts, with the memory 
 of those few moments with Margaret. 
 
 He had felt her love, her clinging dependence, 
 her need of him, as he had never felt them before. 
 There had been something in her appeal that had 
 stirred the deepest tenderness of his love. And 
 
 144
 
 THE WIFE'S APPEAL 145 
 
 he realised now, with keen anxiety, how wan and 
 thin she had grown. It was not merely the re- 
 sult of one day's strain, however severe that 
 might have been. He knew it was the wearing 
 strain of all these months, of the difficulties of 
 their position, the anxieties, the constant dread 
 of some impending crisis it had told upon her 
 sadly. 
 
 It seemed to him now that he must find some 
 way to be with her at once, to care for her and 
 make her well and strong again. At that mo- 
 ment his duty seemed to be clearly to her to 
 take his place beside her, to shield and protect 
 her at any cost. 
 
 And yet, as he glanced around the room, the 
 claims of his wife reasserted themselves. His 
 wife's picture on the desk before him, another on 
 the mantel, everything spoke of her and her 
 claim. 
 
 There was a sound of steps on the stairs in 
 the hall. The curtains were pushed aside and 
 she stood in the library door clad only in her 
 nightgown. 
 
 " Why, Mary, I thought you were asleep," with 
 a feeble disingenuousness for which he hated him- 
 self.
 
 146 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 " You know very well I couldn't sleep, that I 
 can never sleep, when you stay out late like this." 
 
 "Don't you think that is very foolish? 
 Wouldn't it be better if you did? " He rose and 
 threw a smoking jacket, which lay on the couch, 
 around her shoulders. " You'll take cold that 
 way." 
 
 "Would you care? Does it make any differ- 
 ence what happens to me now? " bitterly. 
 
 "If you're going to commence that, I think 
 you'd better go back up stairs." 
 
 "No, I want to talk to you. That's what I 
 came down for. You were with that woman to- 
 night I know ! How much longer do you think 
 I can stand this? How much longer do you think 
 any wife would stand it knowing that her hus- 
 band went out day after day with some other 
 woman a disreputable woman." 
 
 She saw the lines around his mouth grow tense, 
 and it goaded her on. "Yes, a disreputable 
 a bad, fast woman, or she wouldn't go with an- 
 other woman's husband." 
 
 He was looking steadily before him, but the 
 hand that held the cigar trembled. 
 
 "Why don't you answer me?" 
 
 He did not move or speak.
 
 THE WIFE'S APPEAL 14*7 
 
 "Why don't you answer me?" she repeated 
 fiercely, her voice rising in her excitement. 
 
 " I have nothing to say when you talk in that 
 way; surely you must know that." 
 
 For a moment she looked at him helplessly, 
 then threw herself on the couch in a passion of 
 tears. 
 
 " Oh, I know it's because I said she was bad ! 
 You love her ! She has thrown some hateful in- 
 fatuation about you. And you're deserting your 
 wife, who has been faithful to you for all these 
 years, for a woman like that ! Oh, I can't stand 
 it I can't! I shall kill myself if you don't 
 give her up ! " 
 
 When her sobs gradually lost their note of 
 fierce anger and became deep and piteous, he laid 
 aside his cigar and came slowly toward her. He 
 touched her arm awkwardly, and there was a 
 forced gentleness in his voice. 
 
 " This is all needless, Mary. You work your- 
 self up into these passions for no cause. You 
 bring it all on yourself. If you would try to con- 
 trol your unreasonable jealousy, we would both 
 be much happier." 
 
 "You mean that you don't love her?" she 
 cried, with a pitiful touch of hope.
 
 148 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 As she raised her swollen, tear-blotched face, he 
 loathed himself for the feeling of almost physical 
 repulsion that swept over him, and because of 
 it he brought a note of real tenderness into his 
 voice. 
 
 " Why, of course not," he tried to smile. " Do 
 you think after all these years we have lived to- 
 gether that I'm likely to fall in love with any one 
 now?" 
 
 She looked at him, half believing, longing to be 
 convinced and yet feeling that it was not true. 
 In her scant nightgown, which plainly exposed 
 the bones of her neck, and only half hid the angu- 
 lar lines of her figure, with her tear-bleared eyes 
 and swollen face, she had never seemed so un- 
 lovely. With a feeling of mingled pity and deli- 
 cacy, instinctively he averted his gaze. Perhaps 
 she felt something of what was in his mind, for 
 suddenly, with an inarticulate cry, she threw her- 
 self against him, clinging to him in mute appeal. 
 
 He put his arm about her and soothed her 
 as best he could. He even kissed her on the fore- 
 head, hating himself for the inward shrinking 
 that he could not control. After a few moments, 
 she drew away and, still sobbing, went back up
 
 THE WIFE'S APPEAL 149 
 
 stairs. When he heard the door of her room 
 close after her, he sank on a chair by the desk, 
 his head in his hands. 
 
 For almost an hour he sat there, motionless. 
 When he rose and went up stairs his face was 
 worn and haggard. No sound came from her 
 room, and the transom over the door was dark. 
 He moved softly about lest he awaken her. But 
 when he turned off his own light and lay gazing 
 at the wavering shadows on the wall, reflected 
 from the lights of the street, he caught the faint 
 sound of a muffled sobbing. It did not seem 
 to come from her room. 
 
 He rose, tapped on her door, but there was no 
 answer. Then he pushed the door open. In 
 the darkness he could faintly discern the bed, 
 undisturbed in its white smoothness. She was 
 not there! 
 
 He switched on the lights in the hall and ran 
 up to the third story. The sobs grew plainer. 
 In one of the spare rooms he found her, lying on 
 the bed, her face to the wall. She started up 
 with a cry when she heard him. 
 
 "Why did you come up here?" he asked 
 gently.
 
 150 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 She sobbed some indistinct reply. And then 
 he lay down beside her and threw his arm over 
 her shoulder. 
 
 "I'm going to stay here with you now try 
 to sleep." 
 
 Perhaps she felt that words would not help 
 them, that he was giving her the best he could, 
 all that was now in his power, for she said noth- 
 ing more. 
 
 Until dawn he lay there awake. The 
 wretchedness of his position had never seemed 
 so great, his treachery to this woman, who was 
 his wife, had never seemed so despicable. He 
 was wrecking the lives of two women two 
 women who loved him and depended upon him 
 for their happiness. And he was failing them 
 both. But what could he do? How could he 
 now put either of them out of his life? And yet, 
 to go on in this way, meant only misery for all 
 three. 
 
 Sooner or later he would have to choose he 
 would have to sacrifice one.
 
 XIII 
 A MAGAZINE STORY 
 
 STANDFOBD'S MAGAZINE 
 EDITORIAL ROOMS 
 
 Sept 2, 1909. 
 DEAB Miss WABNEB: 
 
 In the hope that now at the last moment you may recon- 
 sider your decision and allow us to use your name as the 
 author of "The Immutable," we are holding the magazine 
 open until the messenger returns. 
 
 As we have told you in a previous letter, we consider this 
 the best story you have written. It is because of its 
 strength and brevity that we have rushed it through into this 
 number, although the magazine was already made up and 
 we had to take out another article to make room for it. 
 And it seems to us extremely whimsical, not to say foolish, 
 to issue it under any other name than your own. 
 
 The magazine goes to press at once, but we can still 
 change the name in the table of contents and on the title 
 page if you will instruct us to do so by the messenger. 
 Very truly yours, 
 
 J. M. ARNOLD. 
 
 Editor. 
 
 THE boy was waiting in the hall. Twice 
 she read the letter and then drew some note 
 paper toward her. 
 
 151
 
 152 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 DEAB MB. ARNOLD: 
 
 I yield to your request you may publish the story 
 under my own name. I had no other reason for my wish 
 to assume a pseudonym in this story, except the desire to 
 know what a few people would think of my work when they 
 did not know it was mine a reason that I now feel is 
 wholly inadequate. But as you are probably accustomed, 
 by long suffering, to the vagaries of authors, I trust you will 
 not think too severely of this. 
 
 Most sincerely, 
 
 MAEQABET WABNEB. 
 
 Without waiting to re-read it, she enclosed 
 the note in an envelope. As she crossed over 
 to the door, the stillness of the room was insist- 
 ent. And as the boy reached out his hand for 
 the envelope there was to her something almost 
 sinister in the act; even his careless, good-na- 
 tured face loomed up ominously before her. She 
 watched him down the hall and heard the click 
 of the elevator door as it closed after him. 
 
 It had gone her consent to the use of her 
 own name to that story. The magazine was 
 going to press. On the twentieth it would be 
 on every news stand in the country. The twen- 
 tieth eighteen more days! 
 
 Her glance fell on the telephone. She could 
 still stop it. To-morrow would be too late; it 
 would have passed through then. But now 
 there was yet time.
 
 A MAGAZINE STORY 153 
 
 But she made no motion toward the telephone. 
 Then suddenly it came to her with a hideous 
 certainty that all along, in her heart, she had 
 wanted it published under her name. She had 
 been only deceiving herself when she feigned 
 otherwise. 
 
 She thought of the night she had written it, 
 the night she had worked feverishly until morn- 
 ing, oblivious of weariness or need of sleep, 
 swept on by the force of the story. It was built 
 upon what he had told her of his wife; she had 
 used his very words, haunting, compelling, in 
 their naked truth. 
 
 The next day she had read it over with a feel- 
 ing almost of terror it rang so true. That she 
 should have used his confidence in this way! 
 It was a flagrant betrayal of his trust. It must 
 never be published she had told herself that 
 again and again. 
 
 And yet within a week she had sent the manu- 
 script to Standford's Magazine, assuaging her 
 conscience by the condition that it be published 
 under a pseudonym. And now she had with- 
 drawn even that! In eighteen days the story 
 would stand before the public under her own 
 name.
 
 154 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 To the public it would be only an interesting, 
 well-written story. But to the man who loved 
 and had trusted her, when he saw the details of 
 the most intimate struggles of his life laid bare 
 in a story what would it mean to him? And 
 to his wife when she read of his love for an- 
 other woman, the woman who had written that 
 story what would it mean to her? 
 
 Published under another name, the story might 
 never be seen by either of them, and if it were, 
 it would be construed as merely a strange coin- 
 cidence. But, under her own name what 
 would be the result? What misery and wreck- 
 age might it not bring to them all ? 
 
 There was still time to recall her consent; she 
 could still stop the use of her name. The mes- 
 senger had not yet reached the office. She flew 
 to the telephone. 
 
 "3834 Madison." 
 
 As she waited for the number, the door bell 
 rang. Again it rang a loud, persistent ring. 
 She dropped the receiver and turned impatiently 
 to the door. It was another messenger with a 
 note addressed in his writing. Unmindful of the 
 receiver dangling from the telephone, she tore 
 open the envelope.
 
 A MAGAZINE STORY 155 
 
 Fate seems to be against us. Am afraid we will have 
 to give up the opera this evening. Last night, while I was 
 asleep, some one found the tickets in my pocket. She denies 
 this, claims she found them on the floor, that they had 
 fallen out But as they were in my inside vest pocket I 
 hardly think that possible. 
 
 She accused me bitterly of intending to take you, so there 
 was nothing to do but say I had bought them for her and 
 forgotten to speak of it. Now I shall have to take her 
 there is no other way. 
 
 A blinding jealousy swept over her. She 
 turned back to the dangling receiver. 
 
 "Hello hello!" Central shrilled angrily. 
 " Didn't you call 3834 Madison? " 
 
 "Yes but it was a mistake. I don't want 
 them now." And Margaret threw up the re- 
 ceiver. 
 
 The next two weeks were filled with a brood- 
 ing dread. As the twentieth, the day of issue, 
 drew near, Margaret grew more and more nerv- 
 ous and apprehensive. 
 
 The only reparation she could now make was 
 to tell him of the story before it came out so 
 that he might try to keep it from his wife. But 
 she had not the courage to tell him she shrank 
 from it with increasing fear. What effect might 
 it not have on his already depressed and moody
 
 156 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 condition to know that she had embodied some 
 of the most intimate and painful details of his 
 life in a story? Might he not even doubt the 
 sincerity of her love when she could use these 
 things for material? 
 
 With his own reticent and secretive nature 
 could he ever understand such a betrayal of his 
 confidence? Could she ever make him under- 
 stand that the story had written itself, that it had 
 seemed a thing outside of her control ? And even 
 if she could make him realise how it had been 
 written could he ever understand or forgive 
 its publication? 
 
 It was not until the eighteenth, just two days 
 before the date of issue, that she at length forced 
 herself to tell him. It was late in the afternoon ; 
 he had called for a few moments on his way home 
 from the office. She told him simply, without 
 any effort at justification and without reserva- 
 tions, the details of the story and of its coming 
 publication. 
 
 She kept her eyes fixed on an envelope which 
 she had picked up from the desk and which she 
 tore into thin strips as she spoke. When she 
 finished, there was a long silence. Still she did
 
 A MAGAZINE STORY 157 
 
 not look, up; she was piecing the strips together 
 again. 
 
 "You hate me! You think it a despicable 
 thing ! Oh, I know I know . . ." Her voice 
 broke to a sob. 
 
 " No," he answered quietly. " Six months ago 
 I might, but now, before the evidence of my own 
 weakness, I cannot blame you for yours. I could 
 not blame her, even when I knew she had gone 
 through my desk, opened my letters, and listened 
 at the library door. Formerly she would have 
 been utterly incapable of such things, but 
 now :" He paused. " I have come to believe 
 that love and jealousy can change one's whole 
 nature." 
 
 There was another silence which she made no 
 attempt to break. 
 
 "As for the magazine reaching her, I do not 
 think it will be difficult to prevent that. The 
 fashion magazines are the only ones she ever 
 buys herself she depends on me to bring home 
 the others. While she usually reads them, she 
 wouldn't be enough interested to ask for any 
 special one, or even to miss it. The only danger 
 lies in some one sending it to her."
 
 158 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 " But there's no one to do that no one 
 knows . . ." 
 
 "Then I don't think you need have any fear 
 about it." 
 
 "And you mean you mean that you don't 
 despise me for publishing that story? Oh, but 
 you will you will when you've read it, when 
 you realise all that I have put into it ! " 
 
 "Would you rather I wouldn't read it?" 
 
 She looked at him incredulously. 
 
 " If it will help you I will promise that." 
 
 Margaret knew that she would have been ut- 
 terly unable to keep such a promise and yet 
 she felt that he would keep it. 
 
 "No, I think I'd rather you would read it. 
 The dread of it would always hang over me if 
 you didn't. But don't read it now not for a 
 few weeks at least. We have seemed so far 
 apart lately, there's been so much to depress us. 
 Wait, perhaps things will be happier." 
 
 Then she broke off and added, hopelessly, 
 " Oh, I suppose that is only a foolish fancy I 
 don't see how things can be different, and yet 
 I've the feeling that I'd rather you would not 
 read it now, that I want you to wait." 
 
 " Poor little girl ! I know things don't look
 
 A MAGAZINE STORY 159 
 
 very hopeful, and it seems to me that I'm more 
 and more helpless to make any radical change. 
 But since there's so little that I can do for 
 you, I'll gladly do this. I'll not even open the 
 magazine until I have your consent. Will that 
 help any?" 
 
 " A great deal," she smiled up at him faintly. 
 For a moment she felt that some of the burden 
 had been lifted from her. 
 
 But when he had gone, she told herself that 
 he had not yet read the story, that after all she 
 had given him only the vaguest outlines. Might 
 it not be very different when he really saw it in 
 print? But at least she had the assurance that 
 he would not read it now, and she felt she could 
 trust implicitly in that promise. 
 
 Two days later the magazine was on the news 
 stands. Margaret first saw it in a small sta- 
 tionery shop around the corner from her hotel. 
 In one swift glance she swept through the con- 
 tents. " The Immutable," by Margaret Warner, 
 page 149. Illustrated by F. T. Kempton. 
 
 Illustrated! She had not known that there 
 were to be any illustrations. It had been rushed 
 through so quickly, she had not thought there 
 would be time for that. And they had sent her
 
 160 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 no proofs. " F. T. Kempton " the name was 
 vaguely familiar, but she could not recall his 
 work. Hurriedly her nervous fingers ran 
 through the pages 149, then over to the next 
 page on which was the drawing. 
 
 An impossibly tall and slender woman of the 
 fashion-plate type, whose clasped hands and up- 
 turned face had the effect of the cheapest melo- 
 drama, while in the background was the debo- 
 nair figure of a man pulling at his moustache in 
 the stereotyped manner. 
 
 The angry colour flamed in her face. That 
 her story should be disfigured by such a draw- 
 ing ! It seemed inconceivable that the magazine 
 should have allowed it to go through. Then she 
 remembered something that Mr. Arnold, the ed- 
 itor, had said a few weeks ago about the growing 
 demand of the public for illustrations in which 
 the expressionless face and fashionable attire 
 of the women were the dominant note. 
 
 But she soon forgot the picture as her eyes 
 ran over the story with tense absorption. There 
 were sentences that stood out with startling, ac- 
 cusing clearness. How merciless it seemed in 
 type! And yet she was conscious of a certain
 
 A MAGAZINE STORY 161 
 
 thrill at seeing his very words on that printed 
 page. Did she want him to see them too? Was 
 there in her heart something of pride, of exulta- 
 tion, that she could take an incident in their 
 lives, use his own words and make of them a 
 story so vital and dramatic? 
 
 She laid the magazine aside, only to pick it up 
 again and again, to pore over passages, phrases, 
 words. All that day and the next she lived in 
 the atmosphere of the story. When she saw him 
 and he made no reference to the issue of the 
 magazine, she hardly knew whether her feeling 
 was that of relief or disappointment. 
 
 When the magazine had been on the news 
 stand three weeks and she knew that it had not 
 reached Mrs. Whitman, Margaret felt that the 
 chances of her seeing it were very slight. Peri- 
 odicals are read soon after they are issued and 
 not at the end of the month. In another week 
 the December number would take its place. 
 
 In all that time he had made no reference to 
 the story. They passed many news stands, even 
 stood before them at elevated and subway sta- 
 tions, where the magazine was conspicuously 
 displayed, but Ms glance never sought it. And
 
 162 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 always before when one of her stories appeared 
 he could not pass a stand without making some 
 comment or buying a copy. 
 
 His silence now was a keen contrast to the 
 pride and interest he had always shown. But 
 Margaret felt that he had kept his promise, that, 
 whatever his thoughts were, he had not read the 
 story. And as his silence about it was so plainly 
 intentional, she could meet it only with silence.
 
 XIV 
 A TKAGEDY 
 
 ^TT'ATHERINE!" 
 
 JLV. " I didn't send up my card. I thought 
 you wouldn't mind." 
 
 " No, of course not. I'm glad you came. Fve 
 been so worried about you. Every time I 
 'phoned the maid said you were out." 
 
 " I know," her voice was colourless. " I didn't 
 want to see any one." The veil and drooping hat 
 brim only partly shaded her features. Margaret 
 could see that she was pale and thin. And yet 
 her beauty seemed as striking as ever. The 
 light cloth gown clung to the curves of her form, 
 and there was about her that air of grace, of 
 flowing easy motion, peculiarly her own. 
 
 She had not taken the chair Margaret had 
 drawn forward, but was walking nervously 
 around the room. Suddenly she turned. 
 
 " I'm going to his office." 
 
 " You're going to his office? " 
 
 163
 
 164 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 " Yes, I'm going now. I cannot bear it any 
 longer.'* 
 
 "But, Katherine what will that mean? 
 You said he would never change." 
 
 "I know," sadly, "I still feel that. But I 
 shall see him," passionately. " Do you know 
 what it will mean to me just to see him? " 
 
 " Oh, Katherine, you mustn't you mustn't 
 do that!" 
 
 "Why?" defiantly. 
 
 " Your pride your sense of " 
 
 "And do you think I have any pride left? 
 Any sense of decency even? I stood on the cor- 
 ner by his house last night for over an hour 
 just to see him pass! " 
 
 "Katherine! And he saw you? " 
 
 "No, but I know now that I wouldn't have 
 cared if he had." 
 
 Margaret made no answer. She was clasping 
 and unclasping her hands as she always did 
 when most deeply stirred. 
 
 " Have you any wine or cognac here? I must 
 have something." 
 
 " I've some cognac, but is it good for you 
 now?" Then suddenly, "You don't do that 
 do you, Katherine? "
 
 ATRAGEDY 165 
 
 "What? Drink?" She laughed harshly. 
 "I never have. But I'd do anything now that 
 would help me." 
 
 Margaret brought her a glass of cognac, re- 
 fraining from any more comments. Uncon- 
 sciously her hand rested on a small package 
 Katherine had laid on the table. She picked it 
 up. Instantly Katherine sprang forward and 
 took it from her. 
 
 "Don't don't touch that!" Then she 
 laughed, a little hysterically. " It's only some of 
 his letters. I I'm taking them back to him. 
 It's foolish, of course, but for the moment I 
 couldn't bear to think of any one touching 
 them." 
 
 It was not until afterward that Margaret 
 thought of the weight of the package, a weight 
 wholly inconsistent with a package of letters. 
 
 " You've heard nothing from him since 
 since that night? " Margaret asked hesitatingly. 
 
 " Nothing not one word." 
 
 "And you? Have you written?" 
 
 " Twice." 
 
 "And your letters?" 
 
 " Have come back unopened." 
 
 " Oh, Katherine, Katherine don't go to him !
 
 166 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 Can't you see what type of man lie is? He will 
 only hurt and humiliate you more ! " 
 
 " I must see him. It is useless to talk to me. 
 / must see him! " 
 
 And Margaret felt the futility of saying any- 
 thing more. 
 
 A strange unrest haunted Margaret all that 
 afternoon. Twice she went to the telephone to 
 call up Katherine's apartment and find out if 
 she had returned. But something restrained her. 
 She struggled against the depression that grew 
 heavier every hour. Her heart ached in passion- 
 ate protest against the cold cruelty of the man. 
 
 Had Katherine really gone to his office ? What 
 had been their meeting? Should she have made 
 a more persistent effort to restrain her? Might 
 she have done more for her? She could have at 
 least insisted on her coming back to spend the 
 night. She pictured Katherine returning alone 
 to her rooms, rooms that were filled with mem- 
 ories of him. 
 
 She passed an almost sleepless night. Her 
 thoughts were on Katherine, but in the back- 
 ground was always the consciousness of her own 
 life, a consciousness she tried to force down. 
 She felt the same shrinking dread that she had
 
 ATRAGEDY 167 
 
 felt that first day in Katherine's apartment, and 
 yet Many things hovered obstinately in her 
 mind. 
 
 In the morning she felt unequal to going down 
 to the dining room and had her breakfast sent 
 up. Two letters and the morning paper were 
 on the side of the tray. She was opening one 
 of the letters when her glance fell on the paper. 
 
 A SUICIDE IN PROMINENT BROKER'S OFFICE. 
 
 BEAUTIFUL YOUNG WOMAN SHOOTS 
 
 HERSELF IN E. H. WALTON'S 
 
 WALL STREET OFFICE. 
 
 NAMES HAVE BEEN CONNECTED FOR PAST 
 TWO YEARS. RUMORS THAT WALTON 
 DESERTED HER. WALTON RE- 
 FUSES TO TALK. 
 
 The black headlines blurred before her. She 
 could read no more. 
 
 It was days before the horror of it left her, 
 days before she could think of it without the 
 anguished self-reproach that she might have pre- 
 vented it, that she should not have let her go. 
 
 The most harrowing part of it all was the 
 packing of Katherine's things. She had left a 
 letter asking that everything be shipped to an in- 
 valid aunt, her only near relative, who lived in a
 
 168 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 small Wisconsin village. She had requested that 
 no one but Margaret and her maid Marie should 
 pack and arrange the things for shipment. It 
 was a request that could not be refused, but it 
 was a task that took all Margaret's strength and 
 courage. 
 
 That the letter was written over two weeks be- 
 fore her death showed how long Katherine had 
 brooded over this final termination of it all. Her 
 visit to Walton's office was the last desperate 
 attempt to win him back. The package she had 
 carried and which she told Margaret was letters, 
 was a small silver-mounted revolver. 
 
 Margaret could never bring herself to read the 
 newspaper details. But from Marie, who sobbed 
 and talked about it constantly, she could not help 
 but hear many things which seared into her mind, 
 from which she flinched and shrank, and yet 
 around which her imagination lingered with a 
 sort of horrible fascination. 
 
 With the incongruity, the seeming intentional 
 lack of sympathy that nature so often shows with 
 our most tragic moments, it was a clear radiant 
 day when, a week later, Margaret raised the 
 drawn blinds of Katherine's apartment to begin
 
 A TRAGEDY 169 
 
 her work. The sunshine flooded in, falling in 
 bright streaks across the blue satin quilt, and 
 over a lace negligee still lying on a chair where 
 she had left it. Nothing had been touched; 
 everything was as it had been when Katherine 
 walked out of the apartment the week before. 
 
 The odour of violets still hung about the room, 
 some shell hairpins lay scattered on the dressing 
 table. A powder puff lay outside of its silver 
 box, and a white comb held a long shining hair. 
 One of the small drawers of the dressing table 
 was partly open, showing a confusion of lace 
 handkerchiefs, fans and jewellery. Margaret re- 
 membered that it was from this drawer Katherine 
 had taken the locket which held his picture. 
 Involuntarily she drew back, sick with the dread 
 of what lay before her. How could she pack 
 these things? How could she touch them? 
 
 Marie was almost useless, for she cried afresh 
 over every intimate belonging. The girl had 
 been devotedly attached to Katherine, and her 
 grief now was inconsolable. 
 
 Besides the box of letters, the place was liter- 
 ally strewn with his notes. Margaret found them 
 thrust beneath the paper that lined the drawers,
 
 170 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 in the bottom of glove and handkerchief cases, in 
 every compartment of her desk, even beneath the 
 tissue paper of some bandboxes. 
 
 At first she wondered why in these weeks of 
 his desertion Katherine had not collected these, 
 why she had left them to be constant reminders 
 of the past. But soon she felt the reason. 
 Katherine had wanted to leave everything un- 
 changed it had helped her in the delusion that 
 he might come back. 
 
 Between her sobs, Marie told her that in the 
 last few weeks " Miss Katherine " had dressed 
 and ordered a special dinner every Wednesday 
 evening, just as she had for two years, when 
 he had dined with her on that night every 
 week. 
 
 " She'd even order the flowers and have the two 
 places set just the same," moaned the girl. 
 " Then she'd not touch the dinner and would cry 
 all night long." 
 
 It was while Margaret was folding away some 
 long kid gloves, gloves that seemed still to hold 
 the shape and softness of the arms they had 
 covered, that the telephone rang. 
 
 "Hello! Is this Miss Beeves' apartment?" 
 
 "Yes," murmured Margaret, quivering with
 
 A TRAGEDY 171 
 
 the horror of the unknown of what might 
 come. 
 
 "This is Swartz, the habit maker. Miss 
 Eeeves did not come for her fitting last week. 
 Will she make another appointment now? " 
 
 " Miss Beeves is very ill," she managed to 
 say. " Some word will be sent you." 
 
 And then she sank on a chair by the 'phone. 
 That any one should not know! It was not so 
 much that they had not seen it in the papers, 
 but that they should not know. She had no 
 reason for not telling the man the truth, except 
 the sheer horror of putting it into words. Would 
 there be more incidents like that while she was 
 here? She felt she could not stand it. 
 
 The rest of the afternoon Margaret worked 
 feverishly, with the longing to get through, to 
 have it over. When it grew dusk she lowered the 
 blinds, turned on the lights, and still worked on. 
 She sent Marie out for a sandwich, determined 
 not to go home until late, hoping to be able to 
 finish to-morrow. 
 
 It was while Marie was gone that the door bell 
 rang. She had ordered some packing boxes 
 earlier in the day, and now she went to the door 
 thinking they had come.
 
 172 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 Instantly in a burning flash she knew him ! 
 It was the face in the locket. After the first 
 blind impulse to turn and fly, she felt herself 
 grow cold and rigidly calm. 
 
 Without a word, and with only a slight bow, 
 he stepped into the lighted bedroom. The front 
 room was dark Margaret had turned on the 
 lights only where she was working. 
 
 In one glance he swept the littered room, the 
 trunk and packing boxes. As he stood there, his 
 hat in his hand, the light fell full on his face 
 and she saw that he had suffered. She saw, too, 
 something of the force and personality of the man 
 Katherine had loved. 
 
 He met her eyes. 
 
 "There are some letters?" 
 
 Margaret made an almost imperceptible in- 
 clination of the head. 
 
 " Perhaps it would be better " 
 
 " For you to take them and be quite sure that 
 all of your infamy would not be published." 
 
 But he did not seem to hear her taunt. " I 
 thought I would ask you to burn them. I think 
 she would rather have it so." 
 
 Again Margaret made the slightest bend of 
 her head. His eyes now rested on the dressing
 
 A TRAGEDY 173 
 
 table with an expression before which Margaret 
 instinctively looked away. 
 
 " There was a ring and a plain band bracelet 
 if I could have those " 
 
 " They are all there on the dressing table. I 
 suppose she would want you to have anything 
 you wish." 
 
 Then she turned abruptly and went into the 
 front room. In tne dark she leaned against the 
 wall; her hands hung clenched by her side. 
 
 She had left him alone with Katherine's things. 
 That is what she would have wanted. What- 
 ever her opinion of the man might be Kath- 
 erine had loved him. She must keep that before 
 her. But he must not press her too far, or she 
 still might not be able to control the wild de- 
 nunciation that burned so fiercely within her. 
 She would stay where she was ; perhaps he would 
 leave without speaking to her again. 
 
 A long mirror at the end of the drawing room 
 reflected faintly, through the open door, a part 
 of the bedroom. A portion of the bed and chair, 
 on which the lace negligee still lay, could be 
 seen. Margaret kept her eyes fixed vacantly 
 upon it. The dressing table was against the 
 wall on the other side, and was not reflected,
 
 17* THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 but she knew lie was standing before it. She 
 pictured him touching the things, the dainty, 
 intimate things around which so much of Kath- 
 erine's personality still lingered. What mem- 
 ories and associations were they bringing back 
 to him? She thought of the comb with the long 
 shining hair. Would he see that too? 
 
 Suddenly, like an apparition, he appeared in 
 the mirror. For a long moment he stood mo- 
 tionless by the bed. Then he caught up the soft 
 lace garment and buried his face in it. The 
 whispered " Katherine ! Katherine ! " was very 
 faint but Margaret heard it. His broad 
 shoulders quivered in a soundless sob. When 
 at length he let the garment drop and raised 
 his head, for an instant the mirror reflected full 
 his face. She knew then that he had loved 
 her. Whatever had been the cause of his deser- 
 tion he had loved her. After that glimpse of 
 his face in the mirror, Margaret never again 
 doubted that. 
 
 And then, as she had hoped he would, he 
 passed out, closing the door softly after him. 
 It was as though the curtain had dropped on 
 some powerful emotional play. She had not 
 known until now that her face was wet with
 
 A TRAGEDY 175 
 
 tears. She felt awed and dazed before the un- 
 fathomable power of love. Love renounced, de- 
 nied, cruelly disowned, and yet in the end un- 
 conquerable. She found herself thinking of this 
 man with something like pity. Whatever had 
 been his cruelty and selfishness he was suffer- 
 ing now.
 
 XV 
 
 AN UNEXPECTED TEST 
 
 AS Margaret hurried up the broad steps of 
 the Metropolitan Museum, her thoughts 
 went back to the day, almost two years ago, 
 when she had met him there just such a grey 
 misty afternoon. Many times since they had 
 met there, but it was that day that always stood 
 out in her memory, the day she had thought their 
 parting was final. 
 
 How much had happened since then 
 through what changing phases of mind and con- 
 ditions they had passed! With a weighted sad- 
 ness that she could not throw off, Margaret hur- 
 ried on to the gallery of ancient pottery, where 
 they were to meet. 
 
 He was leaning against a case of Majolica 
 vases. She saw only the side of his face, but 
 it wore an expression she had come to know and 
 dread, a brooding despondency that was now 
 becoming more and more frequent. He did not 
 see her until she touched his arm.
 
 AN UNEXPECTED TEST 177 
 
 " I'm sorry to be so late the cars were 
 blocked." 
 
 "I knew it was something like that," reas- 
 suringly. " You must never worry when you're 
 detained in some way ; I shall always understand 
 and wait." 
 
 She smiled up at him. " Do you know that in 
 all our meetings for over two years how rarely 
 either of us has been late? " 
 
 "Yes, I've often thought of that. You're a 
 very punctual, faithful little person." 
 
 She pressed his arm. "And you ah, my 
 dear!" 
 
 They moved on to the next gallery. A row of 
 seats was arranged in the centre of the place. 
 
 " Are you tired? Would you rather sit down 
 a while or shall we wander about?" 
 
 " Oh, let's wander about," she answered 
 quickly, feeling that just now the motion of walk- 
 ing would be better than the conscious silence 
 that would come between them should they sit 
 down. For, in spite of his efforts to greet her 
 cheerfully, she felt the weight of his depression, 
 and there was within her no joy or lightness 
 with which to relieve it. 
 
 How much of this increased despondency was
 
 178 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 due to Katherine's death she could not have told. 
 But she knew it had seared deep into both their 
 minds. They had come to tacitly avoid any ref- 
 erence to the tragedy, but Margaret felt that it 
 was always in the background, that it hung over 
 all their thoughts. It seemed to shadow their 
 own future with an ominous foreboding. 
 
 The galleries were now almost deserted. It 
 was near the closing hour, and the stillness 
 around them was broken only by the echoing of 
 distant sounds, that muffled yet booming echo 
 peculiar to great public buildings. 
 
 They paused now before a case of jewellery of 
 the early Koman period, curiously wrought rings 
 and armlets with strange carvings and inscrip- 
 tions. 
 
 " The men and women who wore those things 
 loved and suffered and fought out the little 
 tragedy of life very much as we do now," he said 
 musingly. " After all, it's for such a few years 
 at most. When one looks at it in that way, it 
 doesn't seem to matter so much whether we've 
 been happy or unhappy. In a little while it will 
 make no difference. To the woman who wore 
 that small twisted bracelet there with the glow- 
 ing stones, it makes no difference now it has
 
 AN UNEXPECTED TEST 179 
 
 made no difference for centuries whether she 
 was loved or unloved. And to the man who 
 carried that dagger of how little consequence 
 are his victories and defeats ! " 
 
 " But one so rarely thinks of it in that way. 
 We don't ordinarily feel the insignificance of 
 our individual life and efforts as we do here." 
 
 " No, and I suppose it's better that we don't 
 there would be so little incentive for any 
 achievements if we did." 
 
 The dusk and silence lent an infinite melan- 
 choly to this realm of the past, these relics of 
 antiquity, treasures of lost arts that had so long 
 outlived the hands that wrought them. 
 
 A chill sense of dread, of terror, of the inevi- 
 table forces of life and death was creeping over 
 Margaret. She wanted to cry out to him to take 
 her away from this tomb of the ages, to give her 
 life and love and joy and laughter! And yet 
 she realised how little he could give her, how 
 helpless he was to shield or protect her in any 
 way. 
 
 It was not until a great gong struck the clos- 
 ing hour that either of them spoke. A guard 
 came through, calling " All out ! All out ! " 
 
 How strange the street seemed after that hour
 
 180 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 in the archives of the past. For a few moments 
 Margaret felt that the things they had left in 
 those gloomy galleries were more real, more a 
 part of her own life, than this hurrying crowd, 
 these glittering cabs and carriages with their 
 shining lamps. The transition was too sudden 
 from the silence and gloom of the museum to the 
 throbbing life of this great city. 
 
 Instinctively, to avoid some of the noise and 
 glare of the streets, they turned into the park. 
 Again Margaret thought of that day two years 
 ago when they had left the Museum and walked 
 through the park, the same path they had chosen 
 now. The same deserted seats lined the way, 
 the same lamps glimmered here and there among 
 the trees. Now they were walking over the same 
 rustic bridge ; the dark water reflected the lights 
 now as it had then. 
 
 " The swans are missing," he said quietly, as 
 he drew her to a pause by the railing, just where 
 they had stood before. 
 
 She started. " Were you " 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 They walked on in silence the brooding 
 silence that had of late become so large a part of 
 all their wanderings. With sick foreboding
 
 AN UNEXPECTED TEST 181 
 
 Margaret realised how little they had to say to 
 each other now. They were both so tired of these 
 aimless, homeless wanderings. The charm they 
 had for them in the beginning had long since 
 worn away. And yet, as he had said bitterly a 
 few days before, they had only the streets and 
 restaurants. And when Margaret had cried out 
 futilely as she had so many times before, would 
 it always be like this would they never have 
 a home he could only give her the same hope- 
 less answer that he did not know they must 
 try to wait. 
 
 The path had finally led them out of the park, 
 and now they were walking along a rather dark 
 and dreary side street. Their usual endings to 
 walks like this, particularly on a cold or damp 
 day, was a half hour in some cafe" with a glass of 
 wine or cognac. But lately he seemed rather to 
 avoid this. Margaret vaguely felt the reason 
 that he did not wish to take her so often to such 
 places. But now she was chilled through, with 
 both the cold and the depression of her thoughts. 
 
 " Oh, do take me somewhere where it's warm 
 and light I'm so cold and tired ! " 
 
 Instantly he aroused himself. "Poor little 
 girl, how thoughtless I've been ! We should have
 
 182 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 taken a cab when we came out of the park. 
 Where shall we go? I don't know any place 
 around here." 
 
 "Isn't that a caf6 down the street on the 
 other side?" 
 
 "That doesn't look very attractive. I don't 
 much like to take you to such places." 
 
 " It doesn't matter any place will do for a 
 few moments. We won't have time to go any- 
 where else." 
 
 He made no further protest and they crossed 
 the street. It was a small German rathskeller. 
 A piano and a strident violin were clashing 
 loudly some popular tune. The air was heavy 
 with smoke. Although it was early, a number 
 of the small tables were already filled. A pass- 
 ing waiter, with some empty beer glasses in one 
 hand and a soiled towel in the other, paused for 
 their order. 
 
 Margaret asked for a glass of cognac. She 
 knew he would rather she would have sherry or 
 any light wine, but she wanted something to give 
 her warmth, to drive some of the chill depression 
 from her thoughts. 
 
 She felt his repugnance to the place, and his 
 greater repugnance to her own careless indiffer-
 
 AN UNEXPECTED TEST 183 
 
 ence to it all. He was moodily toying with the 
 match stand that stood on the table between 
 them. 
 
 " Why did you insist on me bringing you here? 
 You know I don't like to see you in places like 
 this." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " You know why. You must see the character 
 of the place and of the women who come here." 
 
 "And do you think I'll be permanently con- 
 taminated by a few moments of this atmos- 
 phere?" bitterly. 
 
 He pushed back the match safe impatiently. 
 
 Margaret reached her hand across the table 
 toward him. 
 
 " Don't you see it isn't altogether the place? 
 It's because we're both so tired of this homeless 
 wandering of having nothing but the streets 
 and restaurants and caf6s. Oh, if you could 
 only come freely to my apartment instead of 
 always having to roam around like this." 
 
 "We've tried that over and over again and 
 it always ends disastrously. She always finds 
 out, and then it takes days to pacify her. Just 
 now she's more content than she's been for some 
 time, because she thinks I'm not seeing you at
 
 184 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 all. And I must have peace at home, if I'm to 
 be able to do my work at all." 
 
 " You always hold that over me your work." 
 
 " I must, dear," more gently. " Can't you see 
 we could have no future if my practice goes to 
 pieces? And it nearly has. A practice that 
 took me fifteen years to build up, almost ruined 
 because of my neglect in the two years I've 
 known you." 
 
 " Oh, don't say that how can you blame me 
 __how " 
 
 " I'm not blaming you, Margaret, I'm only 
 trying to show you how fatal it would be if I 
 should come to see you with any regularity again. 
 I can risk it occasionally, but if it should be 
 often, she would be certain to learn of it, and 
 there would be more scenes and more sleepless 
 nights more days that I'd be utterly unfit for 
 work. As it is, I've sleepless nights enough." 
 
 "But I thought you said she was content 
 now." 
 
 " She is, but don't you think I'm worried about 
 you about your future? Don't you know I see 
 what a strain all of this is on your health 
 how depressed and hopeless you've become?
 
 AN UNEXPECTED TEST 185 
 
 Don't you believe I'm always trying to find some 
 solution?" 
 
 " You do see that? " She leaned forward 
 eagerly. " You do realise how it is breaking me 
 down how thin and worn I look? Somehow 
 I've thought you didn't see " 
 
 " Of course I do, dear." He covered the hand 
 which lay on the table with his own. " But 
 I thought it best not to talk about it, that it 
 might only make you worse, that you might try 
 to force things to use my sympathy to bring 
 about some crisis which I feel now would be fatal 
 for us all." 
 
 " Oh, no no, I wouldn't it would help me ! 
 It's because I sometimes feel that you've become 
 so blind and indifferent to my health that it 
 makes me almost desperate." 
 
 " I could never be indifferent to your health, 
 Margaret; you ought to know that. But I'm 
 always hoping that I can do something. I'd al- 
 ways so much rather act than talk." 
 
 "And you know it isn't really my health. I 
 mean it's only the result of all this strain, that 
 if we could be together always, I'd be perfectly 
 well and happy. You know that don't you? "
 
 186 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 She felt the warmth of his hand as it closed 
 more closely over hers. " Yes, dear, I do." 
 
 Her eyes dropped and a faint flush came to 
 her cheeks. A large grey cat, with a leather col- 
 lar, that had been roaming leisurely around 
 among the tables, now jumped up on a chair be- 
 side Margaret. She stooped over to pet it, glad 
 of a chance to hide the colour in her face. It 
 rubbed against her and purred exuberantly. 
 
 Suddenly she looked up, her eyes aglow. 
 
 " I wonder if you know how much more I love 
 all things, particularly children and animals, 
 since we met? " 
 
 " I believe I ought to know." He smiled at 
 her tenderly. "You've told me several times." 
 
 "Oh, how unkind have I said that before? 
 I suppose I have, but I'll never " 
 
 " Yes, you will you must say it many times 
 more. Those are the things I love to hear." 
 
 It was a lighter, happier mood than they had 
 been in for many days. They left the cafe with 
 a feeling of weariness that made them unmindful 
 of the chill air and dreary street. 
 
 "Shall we take this car? It goes almost to 
 my door," she suggested quickly. 
 
 Margaret always kept him from calling a cab
 
 AN UNEXPECTED TEST 187 
 
 when possible; from the very beginning she had 
 had an instinctive reluctance to his spending 
 much money on her. Often her little subterfuges 
 to keep down the expense of their outings would 
 both hurt and offend him. 
 
 The car was crowded, but he found a seat for 
 her and clung to a strap beside her. Now and 
 then, as the car lurched, he would be swayed 
 against her, and she was conscious of a thrill 
 that always came when he was very near. 
 
 When they left the car at her corner, he 
 glanced at his watch. 
 
 " It's only a few moments after six. If I get 
 home for dinner by seven, it will be all right 
 so we can still have almost an hour more. Shall 
 we walk up around the square? " 
 
 Eagerly she assented. Her heart leaped at 
 his evident reluctance to leave her; it was like 
 it had been in those wonderful first months. 
 
 She pressed against his arm. " After all, dear, 
 we do have some very happy moments still." 
 
 "Still? Why do you say that?" he asked 
 quickly. 
 
 " Ah, you know it hasn't been the same lately." 
 
 "It's only because we've been so worried 
 there have been so many things . . . But if we
 
 188 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 can only help each other to be patient it may 
 mean a greater and more permanent happiness 
 than we've ever had." 
 
 They walked on for several moments in silence, 
 but it was a contented silence, not the brooding 
 abyss that was so often between them. 
 
 Suddenly she felt him start. He stepped 
 back. 
 
 "That is Mrs. Whitman," in a tense voice. 
 " You must excuse me ! " He lifted his hat, and 
 the next moment was hurrying across the street. 
 
 For a moment she stood perfectly still where 
 he had left her. Then she walked straight 
 ahead, seeing nothing, her eyes on the ground, 
 her cheeks ablaze. 
 
 That he should have left her ! Left her alone 
 in the street after dark to go to her! That 
 he should have subjected her to this ! 
 
 There was a quick step behind her his hand 
 was on her arm. 
 
 " What can I say? I shouldn't have left you 
 I see that now. But I had no time to think. 
 My first impulse was to go to her. I thought 
 she had not seen us, and that I might prevent it, 
 I know now that I should have stayed with you." 
 
 " Then you left her? " tensely.
 
 AN UNEXPECTED TEST 189 
 
 " It wasn't she I was mistaken." 
 
 "Oh oh," with a hysterical laugh. "So 
 that is why you came back to me ! It took great 
 courage to do that ! " 
 
 He made no answer. 
 
 "If it had been she and she had seen us 
 and you had gone as you said before you had 
 time to think would you have come back then? 
 Would you let her see that you were leaving her 
 for me as I saw you were leaving me for her? " 
 
 He was silent. 
 
 " Would you? " 
 
 " I don't know," in a low voice. 
 
 " You don't know? " 
 
 " I told you, Margaret, that had I had time to 
 think I wouldn't have left you. But having 
 gone to her I don't think I could have come 
 back to you." 
 
 "Why?" . 
 
 " Because it would have been far more of a 
 deliberate insult to her to come back to you 
 than it would have been to have remained with 
 you. You must see that would have been an in- 
 tolerable thing ! " 
 
 She knew he was right, and yet, so fierce had 
 been her indignation, that now the desire to make
 
 190 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 Mm say something that would soothe her hurt 
 pride was very strong. 
 
 " Don't try to force me to say anything I can- 
 not mean, Margaret that can never help. I'm 
 unspeakably sorry this happened that I left 
 you in that way. There is little enough I can 
 do for you without subjecting you to any humilia- 
 tion. It's a pitiable thing to wound the pride 
 of the woman one loves, and I'm willing to say 
 or do anything I can to make amends any- 
 thing that will be true." 
 
 She was still struggling with herself, with a 
 jealous indignation that still welled in her throat. 
 
 "Listen, Margaret, I'll do this. There are 
 going to be guests at the house for dinner to- 
 night, and of course I should be there. But I'll 
 give it up I'll take you out to dinner instead." 
 
 With one of the quick impulses of her nature 
 all the bitterness vanished now. 
 
 " No no, I wouldn't want you to disappoint 
 your guests. I'm not quite so childish and self- 
 ish as that! I know many times I must have 
 seemed so, or you wouldn't think such a sacrifice 
 would appease me now. But I'm not going to 
 be like that any more oh, I'm not I'm 
 not " There were tears in her voice and eyes.
 
 AN UNEXPECTED TEST 191 
 
 " You must hurry now, or you'll be late for your 
 dinner. And you mustn't worry about this ; I'll 
 try not to think of it any more." 
 
 It was the best of her love that was uppermost 
 now. 
 
 " You mean that, dear? You'll be content to 
 have me go? You'll not brood over this and be- 
 come hurt and bitter again when you're alone? " 
 
 " No no, I promise that I won't. Only " 
 She hesitated with a pitiful little laugh that 
 seemed to beg tolerance for her weakness. " If 
 if" 
 
 " If what, dear? Let me do anything I can." 
 
 "Oh, I know I shouldn't ask you but I do 
 want you to say that if we ever should meet her 
 on the street that you'd never leave me like 
 that again." 
 
 " I can say that with all sincerity. I hope 
 it may never happen, but in our constant wander- 
 ings there's always a possibility that it may. If 
 it does, whatever the consequences I will stay 
 by your side." 
 
 As he hurried home, more than ever he real- 
 ised how much of the child there was in her na- 
 ture. In spite of all the unhappiness that he 
 knew this very trait had caused them, it was one
 
 192 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 of the things that most endeared her to him. 
 And now his thoughts went back to her with 
 more than usual tenderness. 
 
 The incident of leaving her on the street had 
 filled him with keen distress. He had a sense of 
 having failed her in a crisis, of having been put 
 to a test and found wanting. 
 
 He remembered she had once said, " If it ever 
 comes to any real crisis I'll be the one you will 
 fail not she." All through the dinner his 
 mind dwelt on that.
 
 XVI 
 THE TRIP TO THE COUNTRY 
 
 MARGARET sprang from her bed in the 
 fear and bewilderment of a sudden 
 awakening. As she hurried across the room, 
 her glance fell on the clock it was only seven ! 
 What did it mean? Who could be telephoning 
 so early? 
 
 Then she recognised the voice, but knew by the 
 tone, that nothing had happened. 
 
 " I hope I haven't startled you but I won- 
 dered if you would like to take a trip in the 
 country to-day." 
 
 " A trip in the country? " 
 
 "Yes, I'm going out to Fair View to drive 
 Prince in. Would you care to go with me? 
 You've been out so little lately, I thought this 
 trip might do you good." 
 
 "Oh, I'd love to go you know that!" 
 
 " Can you get down to the Grand Central in 
 time for a 7:55 train?" 
 
 193
 
 194 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 " Yes, yes I think I can. I'll try." 
 
 "Then take the subway. It will be quicker 
 than a cab. I'll be there to meet you." 
 
 Only fifty-five minutes! Could she make 
 it? 
 
 She dressed with breathless haste, filled with 
 delight at the prospect of the day with him, of 
 the long drive back through the country. It 
 was just half past when she left her apartment. 
 Only twenty -five minutes more and the sub- 
 way was two blocks over. 
 
 Fortunately she did not have to wait for a 
 train ; one dashed in as she ran down the steps. 
 The car was crowded with early morning 
 workers. At the Grand Central Station she saw 
 him before the gates were open. Her heart 
 leaped as it always did when she met him, and 
 the thought came to her how often she had 
 seen him like that, how many trips they had had 
 together, how rich were the memories of their 
 wanderings. And now, to-day, another trip lay 
 before them, another day full of new experiences, 
 new possibilities for happiness. 
 
 " Am I in time? " eagerly. 
 
 " In good time," he assured her. " We've six 
 minutes yet."
 
 TRIP TO THE COUNTRY 195 
 
 He hurried her up through the station and out 
 to the waiting train. 
 
 " I'm afraid there are no chair cars ; will you 
 mind an ordinary coach?" 
 
 She laughed happily and pressed against his 
 arm. " As if I'd mind anything while I'm with 
 you. Oh, I'm very, very happy this morning ! " 
 
 " Then you didn't object to my calling you up 
 so early?" in the tone of one who knows the 
 answer but wants to hear it in words. 
 
 " Object? " For a swift second she brushed 
 her cheek against his arm. 
 
 He bent over her. " Margaret, dear little 
 Margaret!" It was the tone and phrase that 
 always thrilled her. 
 
 They had just reached their train as it was 
 moving out. With a quick strong movement he 
 swung her up on the steps. She flung him a 
 laughing tender glance. 
 
 The city and its shabby outskirts were soon 
 left behind, and they were whirling through 
 woods and fields. There was a note of joyous- 
 ness in the crisp morning air and vivid sunshine. 
 He had opened the window beside them and the 
 fresh earthy odour of the country blew against 
 their faces.
 
 196 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 " It's going to be a wonderful day think, 
 dear, a whole day together! After all, it is a 
 beautiful world to give us this ! " 
 
 "Do you still think that, Margaret?" he 
 asked tenderly. " That is what you used to say, 
 but lately we've had so much unhappiness I've 
 been afraid " 
 
 " Oh, I know, and yet if one can have moments 
 like this surely it compensates." 
 
 " If I could only feel you would always think 
 that." 
 
 For a while they were silent. Both felt that 
 the other's mind was teeming with thoughts, 
 thoughts that involved all the questions of their 
 future, a future that stretched before them baf- 
 fling, impregnable hopeless. 
 
 To interrupt these thoughts that could only 
 depress them, he told her how he happened to 
 get away to-day. Two cases that had been set 
 for this morning were withdrawn yesterday after- 
 noon, which left the day practically free. She 
 repressed the desire to ask why he had not tele- 
 phoned her last night, why he had waited until 
 this morning. But he divined her thought. 
 After a short hesitation, he said, with evident 
 reluctance,
 
 TRIP TO THE COUNTRY 197 
 
 " Mrs. Whitman has been saying all Fall that 
 when I drove Prince in for the winter she wanted 
 to go with him. And I didn't know until this 
 morning that she wouldn't go." 
 
 " Wouldn't go ? " She knew, whatever the cir- 
 cumstances, that she had no real cause for the 
 jealous resentment that was rising within her. 
 
 " Wouldn't go? " she repeated, his silence in- 
 creasing her resentment. 
 
 " She said this morning that she did not wish 
 to go." 
 
 "And then you asked me?" bitterly. 
 
 He turned to her. " You told me once, Mar- 
 garet, that you would have no feeling about con- 
 ditions of this kind, that you wanted me to take 
 advantage of every opportunity to be with you, 
 however it came about." 
 
 " I know I know I did." 
 
 There was another silence. He leaned for- 
 ward and raised the shade a little higher, then 
 he said quietly: 
 
 " The trees are unusually brilliant this year. 
 I don't remember any Fall when they were so 
 vividly coloured." 
 
 " Why did she not want to go? " 
 
 " Because we had some words last night."
 
 198 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 " Some words? " 
 
 " Margaret, are you going to insist that we 
 talk about that now? Do you want to spoil this 
 day?" 
 
 In the hurry and excitement of their meeting, 
 she had not noticed the wearied lines in his face, 
 but she saw them now. They were lines she had 
 learned came only from a sleepless, wretched 
 night. 
 
 "You didn't sleep last night?" 
 
 He made no answer. 
 
 " She didn't let you sleep? bitterly. 
 
 Still no answer. 
 
 "Then why did you take this trip to-day?" 
 
 " Because it was a chance to be with you. I 
 thought the outing might do us both good. But 
 it won't if you insist upon talking about . . ." 
 He finished the sentence with a gesture of de- 
 spair. 
 
 The weariness in his face and voice awoke in 
 her a thrill of pity. 
 
 "No no, I won't, I promise. We'll forget 
 everything but that we're together for a whole 
 day." 
 
 A train boy came through with chewing gum 
 and chocolates.
 
 TRIP TO THE COUNTRY 199 
 
 He turned to her with sudden anxiety. 
 " You've had no breakfast? " 
 
 She smiled. " Have you? " 
 
 "It doesn't matter about me, but I've been 
 very thoughtless of you. And of course there's 
 no dining car on here." He called the boy back. 
 " Have you any oranges? Fruit of any kind?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 " Can't you get some at the next stop? " 
 
 " No, sir not till we get to Parkstown." 
 
 " I'm sorry, dear," turning back to her as the 
 boy had passed on. " But I tell you how we'll 
 manage it. . . ." 
 
 She nestled closer; she always loved to hear 
 him say " Now I tell you what we'll do," or 
 " Now I'll arrange it so we can . . ." It always 
 gave her the feeling she so craved of being looked 
 after, of being taken care of. 
 
 "Fairville, the railway station, is just five 
 miles this side of the farm. I'll have to get some 
 kind of a vehicle there, and drive over after 
 Prince. I'll take you to the hotel there and 
 you can have breakfast while I'm gone." 
 
 "Then you won't have any breakfast at all?" 
 
 " I'm afraid I won't have time. If I stop for 
 breakfast, it'll make us late." He took out his
 
 200 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 watch. " We'll be at Fairville about half past 
 nine. It'll take me over an hour to drive to the 
 farm and back ; that will make it nearly eleven. 
 Then we've forty miles back to New York, part 
 of it's a bad road, and we want to get it before 
 dark if possible." 
 
 " Then I'll not stop for breakfast either I'd 
 much rather go with you. I've always wanted 
 to see your farm the rustic seat you made 
 yourself, and the little summer house by the 
 creek where you wrote me so many letters." 
 
 He hesitated. " But I'm afraid you couldn't 
 see those things." 
 
 "Couldn't see them?" 
 
 " I couldn't drive you up to the house. I'd 
 have to leave you in the vehicle somewhere down 
 the road. The caretaker and his wife are there, 
 and if a strange woman should come with me 
 they'd be sure to mention it to to Mrs. Whit- 
 man." 
 
 Margaret made no answer, but the old fierce 
 jealousy and bitterness rose in her throat. She 
 was looking steadily out the window at a stretch 
 of ragged cornfields. It was always so al- 
 ways she must be thought of ! They could never
 
 TRIP TO THE COUNTRY 201 
 
 have a day not even an hour together but 
 that they must think of her! 
 
 He covered her hand with his own. " I know, 
 dear I know what you're thinking. But I'm 
 afraid it can't be helped." 
 
 "Very well, then. I'll wait at Fairville." 
 
 " Ardsdale ! " shouted the guard. 
 
 " It's just two more stations now, dear." 
 
 A few moments later they stepped from the 
 car to the platform of a straggling little village. 
 Directly across from the station was a three- 
 story, shabby frame building with a large sign : 
 " Palace Hotel." 
 
 " This is the only place here," as he took her 
 across the street. " I'm afraid you can't get 
 much of a breakfast, but you must try to eat 
 something." 
 
 " And you won't wait for even a cup of cof- 
 fee? " 
 
 " I think I'd better not. The livery stable is 
 just around the corner. I'll get a man and a rig 
 there, and try to be back in an hour. We can 
 have an early luncheon on the way. There're 
 a number of good road-houses between here and 
 New York."
 
 202 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 Left alone in the dingy country hotel, Mar- 
 garet felt strangely desolate. The close, musty 
 smell of the dining room, the soiled table cloths 
 and the smeary catsup bottles banished any ap- 
 petite she might have had. She ordered only 
 coffee and rolls. The coffee was brought her in 
 a thick cracked cup, with a small pitcher of 
 bluish milk. 
 
 Why not spend this hour in fixing up a lunch 
 a lunch they could eat on the way? It would 
 save time; they need not stop at a road-house 
 unless they wished. She welcomed the idea with 
 enthusiasm. It would give a picnic atmosphere 
 to their trip, and how surprised he would be ! 
 
 In a few moments she was exploring the main 
 street of the village. There were no delicates- 
 sens, but there were a number of small grocery 
 and bake-shops. In the cleanest of the bakeries 
 was a capable-looking woman who, under Mar- 
 garet's direction, made a number of sandwiches 
 and packed them in a large paper box. Sar- 
 dines, olives, crackers, cheese and fruit from a 
 near-by grocer, filled the box. 
 
 Then she saw him coming far down the 
 street. Prince was fairly dancing over the rough
 
 TRIP TO THE COUNTRY 203 
 
 cobble stones. As he drew up, she noticed that 
 his face was slightly flushed. 
 
 He sprang out, hitched the horse and took the 
 box from her. 
 
 " What's this? Our lunch? " joyfully. 
 
 She nodded. " How did you know? " 
 
 " I'd hardly left before I thought of how much 
 time we could save if we had a lunch put up at 
 the hotel." 
 
 She laughed. " This is much nicer than any- 
 thing they could put up at that hotel. I did it 
 myself got the things at a grocery and a bake 
 shop." 
 
 " It'll seem like a picnic," boyishly. 
 
 " That's what I thought. But we haven't any* 
 thing to drink. Can't we get a bottle of mineral 
 water?" 
 
 "I'm afraid not here. But perhaps we can 
 get some wine at the hotel; they have a small 
 bar there. Let me put you in the trap first, 
 and then I'll see what is to be had." 
 
 To Margaret, in her eagerness to be off, it 
 seemed a long time before he returned with a 
 bottle and a couple of glasses wrapped in news- 
 paper.
 
 204* THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 " It's a cheap California claret but it's all 
 they had." 
 
 He put the bottle in the bottom of the trap 
 with the lunch box, and sprang in beside her. 
 Prince knew his touch on the reins and dashed 
 off with a purr of delight. They were soon out 
 on the broad country road. He leaned over and 
 tucked the lap robe about her. 
 
 "Are you warm and comfortable, dear? 
 We've a long drive before us." 
 
 Again she noticed that his face seemed 
 strangely flushed and his hand trembled as he 
 arranged the robe. 
 
 "Graham, you're not well?" anxiously. 
 
 "Not well? What makes you think that?" 
 
 "Why you seem so flushed you're not 
 feverish?" 
 
 " I've a headache that's all." 
 
 "Oh, I'm so sorry. It's because you had no 
 sleep last night and nothing to eat this morn- 
 ing. Let me get you a sandwich now." She 
 stooped over for the box. 
 
 NO _ no , not now," almost irritably. " Wait 
 'till we get out a little farther. Prince is too 
 restless to stand now." 
 
 The trap lurched heavily as a sharp turn kept
 
 TRIP TO THE COUNTRY 205 
 
 them from sliding down a deep gulch at the side 
 of the road. A moment later they grazed the 
 wheel of a heavy farm wagon. As Margaret in- 
 stinctively turned, she saw the man looking back 
 in angry astonishment. Then she realised how 
 recklessly he was driving. When they whirled 
 over a narrow railless bridge, escaping the edge 
 by barely an inch, she caught his arm with a lit- 
 tle cry. Just ahead was a forked road. The 
 horse plunged on, seemingly without guidance, 
 to the left. Margaret saw that the road was a 
 private one and led up the hill to a large house 
 half hid among the trees. 
 
 Without a word he turned Prince sharply 
 around, the wheels grating fiercely against the 
 side of the trap. 
 
 " Graham, do you mean that you didn't know 
 this road that you left it to the horse? " 
 
 " Why not? Does it matter where we go as 
 long as we're together? " 
 
 As she looked up in startled alarm, he drew 
 her to him and kissed her. 
 
 And then she knew! 
 
 She shrank back, covering her face with her 
 hands. "Oh, Graham, what made you do 
 it?"
 
 206 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 " What made me kiss you? Why, sweetheart, 
 I didn't know you'd mind." 
 
 Her heart sickened at the cheap evasion and 
 the forced playfulness of his voice. 
 
 " Oh, you know I don't mean that you know 
 what I mean ! Oh, how could you how could 
 you?" 
 
 He did not answer, but she saw that he was 
 frowning darkly. They were now at the cross 
 roads again. With a jerk he turned the horse 
 back over the road they had first come. 
 
 "Graham Graham, where are you going 
 this is the way we came ! " 
 
 Again he jerked the horse around, this time 
 almost overturning the trap. 
 
 " You're hard to please this morning," with an 
 unpleasant laugh. 
 
 " Oh, how'll we ever get to New York how'll 
 we ever get there? " She was almost sobbing 
 now. 
 
 The horse, impatient at the many turnings, 
 was tearing along at a dangerous pace. She saw 
 that his hold on the reins was far from steady. 
 The effect of the liquor was increasing! How 
 much had he drunk? How long would it last? 
 Would he be able to manage the horse? She was
 
 TRIP TO THE COUNTRY 207 
 
 thoroughly terrified now. But worse than her 
 terror was the hideous realisation that he should 
 have done this thing that to-day of all days 
 he should have had so little self-control. He had 
 stopped somewhere on his way for Prince; she 
 recalled now his flushed face and the length of 
 time it had taken him to get the wine. Her own 
 face burned hotly with anger and indignation. 
 
 The trap was swinging perilously near a deep 
 ditch by the side of the road, and just ahead 
 was another narrow bridge. 
 
 "Graham, let me drive for a little while 
 won't you? " tremulously. 
 
 "Why?" curtly. 
 
 " Why, because I like to drive and it will 
 rest you." 
 
 " I'm not tired." 
 
 They dashed across the bridge and on with in- 
 creasing speed. 
 
 If she could get him to eat something that 
 might help. The very fact of his having eaten 
 nothing since yesterday may have made him 
 more susceptible to the liquor. She took the 
 lunch box up on her lap and opened it with 
 trembling fingers. She folded back the paper 
 and took out a sandwich.
 
 208 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 " Graham, won't you try to eat something? " 
 appealingly. 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 "You've had nothing to eat this morning? 
 Nothing while you were gone for Prince? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Then you must have something now." 
 
 "Don't want anything to eat. I'll take a 
 glass of that wine." His voice had grown 
 thicker. 
 
 " Oh, no you mustn't have that now." 
 
 " Why not? " angrily. 
 
 She saw her mistake. " Why only because 
 I thought you ought to eat something first." 
 
 "Where's that wine?" 
 
 She did not answer; the hot angry tears were 
 in her eyes and throat. The horse, of its own 
 accord, had slowed down now. Holding the 
 reins in one hand, he stooped over for the wine 
 and glasses. She saw him pour it out. 
 
 "Graham don't don't please don't 
 drink that now ! " She caught his arm, causing 
 a little of the wine to spill over on his glove. 
 
 " Look out there what are you doing ! " 
 harshly. 
 
 It was the last blow to her quivering self-
 
 TRIP TO THE COUNTRY 209 
 
 control ; she covered her face with her hands and 
 sobbed hysterically. The lunch box slid un- 
 heeded from her lap, its contents overturned at 
 their feet. With a smothered oath he hurled the 
 glass out into the road. 
 
 "Are you satisfied now? I didn't touch it! " 
 
 But the fierce anger in his voice only made her 
 sobs more violent. With another oath he picked 
 up the bottle and sent it crashing against a rock. 
 The horse reared and sprang forward in nervous 
 fear. 
 
 White with rage, and making no effort to check 
 the horse, he jerked up the lunch box and flung 
 it out. A bottle of olives and some sandwiches 
 still lay where they had fallen when the box 
 slid from her lap. He gathered these up and 
 hurled them all into the road. 
 
 Margaret was staring at him now with wide, 
 terror-stricken eyes. He did not once look to- 
 ward her ; he was gazing straight in front of him 
 and she could see only the side of his white, 
 set face. 
 
 The horse, now thoroughly frightened, was 
 plunging ahead, the trap swaying sickeningly 
 from side to side. To Margaret it seemed that 
 every second they would be dashed out. Then
 
 210 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 it came to her that this might be the solution of 
 everything death together in this way. And 
 for the moment there was in her heart no sense 
 of fear, no desire to evade any end for which they 
 might be destined; there was more a feeling of 
 fatalism, of freedom from responsibility, of wait- 
 ing quietly for the inevitable. 
 
 A long clear stretch of road lay before them ; 
 there were no teams in sight. And gradually the 
 horse wore itself out its speed became less 
 and less. Margaret relaxed her hold on the seat 
 and leaned back with a sense almost of disap- 
 pointment that it had not come. To go on 
 seemed harder just then than a merciful oblivion. 
 
 They were driving now in absolute silence. 
 Again they came to a cross road. She saw him 
 hesitate and then choose the one to the right. 
 Instinctively she felt that he did not know the 
 road that he had chosen at hazard. A few 
 moments before she had looked forward calmly 
 to death, but, now that the danger was passed, 
 all her indignation and horror at the situation 
 flamed up again. Her anxiety about the road 
 finally conquered her aversion to speak. 
 
 "Is this the right road? Do you know?" 
 Her voice carried all the scorn and anger that
 
 TRIP TO THE COUNTRY 211 
 
 she felt. She had recklessly thrown aside all 
 desire to conciliate him now. 
 
 "Is this the right road?" She repeated it 
 again. 
 
 " It may be." 
 
 " Will you ask the next person we meet? " 
 
 Silence. 
 
 " Will you? " 
 
 Still silence. 
 
 Margaret caught her breath; her face burned 
 crimson. A bend in the road brought them in 
 sight of a man leading a couple of horses. 
 Would he ask this man or would he deliberately 
 ignore her request? Unconsciously she leaned 
 forward, tense, expectant. 
 
 And then he drove ~by without a glance to- 
 ward the man. The red in her cheeks flamed 
 deeper. She clenched her hands in her effort to 
 keep back the bitter, reckless words. A half mile 
 farther on and a man driving a spring w r agon 
 came briskly toward them. 
 
 " Will you ask this man, or shall I? " tensely. 
 
 His answer was to lean forward, take the whip 
 from the socket and cut it sharply in the air. 
 Prince bounded forward, passing the man in a 
 flash. Margaret sprang to her feet, her hand
 
 212 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 on the dashboard. In another second she would 
 have jumped from the trap. 
 
 " What are you doing? " He caught her arm 
 savagely and forced her back into the seat. 
 
 " I'm going to get out I'll find my way back 
 to New York alone." 
 
 " You'll stay where you are ! " 
 
 He kept his hand on her arm with a fierce 
 grasp. She was sobbing convulsively now, in 
 her helpless efforts to struggle away from him. 
 
 If he had admitted his condition, if he had been 
 penitent and remorseful, her indignation would 
 have been tempered with pity. But this sullen 
 defiance aroused all her reckless, bitter antag- 
 onism. That he should have brought her out for 
 a day's pleasure and then subjected her to this ! 
 With an almost childish enragement she thought 
 of the lunch she had so carefully prepared and 
 how he had hurled it into the road. 
 
 Again she struggled to free her arm and again 
 his hold tightened painfully. 
 
 " Oh, I hate you I hate you ! You're drunk 
 drunk!" 
 
 His only reply was a harsh laugh and a still 
 more cruel hold on her arm. She had thrown 
 aside all caution now, her only thought was to
 
 TRIP TO THE COUNTRY 213 
 
 spring from the trap to get away from him. 
 
 A road roller and a number of workmen 
 loomed in sight ahead of them. By the machine 
 was a man on horseback, evidently a foreman. 
 When they neared the puffing engine Prince 
 stopped suddenly and began to back. 
 
 As he released her arm to manage the horse, 
 she sprang recklessly to the ground. In an in- 
 stant she was on her feet to show him that she 
 was unhurt. The fear of his springing after 
 her and being injured had occurred to her as she 
 jumped. 
 
 Two of the road hands, thinking she had 
 jumped through fright, came running up to hold 
 the horse. 
 
 "It's all right now, Miss; you can get back 
 in. We'll lead him by the engine." 
 
 What could she say? 
 
 " No no, I I'm not going that way." 
 
 Then she turned and almost ran down the 
 road without a backward glance. She was 
 vaguely conscious of her disarranged hair and 
 flushed tear-stained face. If she could get off 
 the road into the woods away from the won- 
 dering eyes that she felt were following her. 
 But on both sides the road was fenced in by a
 
 214: THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 high rail fence. They had passed an open woods 
 was it much farther back? If she could only 
 reach it ! 
 
 Then came the sound of wheels close behind. 
 He was following her. Drawing farther away 
 from the road and nearer the fence, she hurried 
 on without turning her head. The wheels were 
 quite near now now they were beside her. 
 
 "Will you get in before any publicity comes 
 from this? The man on horseback is following 
 us. He knows you didn't jump through fear. 
 He thinks something is wrong." 
 
 Margaret knew by his voice that the incident 
 had sobered him; it was perfectly clear and 
 steady, but it was hard and cold as steel. He 
 stopped the trap close beside her. 
 
 " I'll not get in ! " passionately. 
 
 " You must! When we pass this man I'll let 
 you out if you insist." 
 
 " You mean that? You'll let me out whenever 
 I ask you as soon as we've passed this man? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " You give me your word? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 She moved toward the trap. Without waiting 
 to be helped, she stepped in and drew the lap
 
 TRIP TO THE COUNTRY 215 
 
 robe over her. He turned Prince sharply 
 around, and again they drove off in silence. The 
 man on horseback and the road hands were soon 
 met and left far behind. 
 
 Now that he was almost himself again, if he 
 had at that moment drawn her to him and ex- 
 pressed his regret for it all ; if he had been suffi- 
 ciently humble and penitent the day might 
 still have been saved. She was waiting for him 
 to make some amends but his cold silence only 
 the more bitterly incensed her. Did he think 
 she had weakened that she did not have the 
 courage of her threat? 
 
 " I'll get out here." 
 
 It was as though he had not heard her. 
 
 " You gave me your word ! " tensely. 
 
 " Very well," curtly. He stopped the horse. 
 
 The next moment she was making her way 
 along a narrow path that led from the road 
 through an open woods. 
 
 There was no sound of wheels. He had not 
 driven on; he was still standing there. Then 
 she heard his voice he was calling something 
 to her. But she could not hear the words and 
 she did not turn. 
 
 He would come after her! He would hitch
 
 216 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 the horse and come after her. He would be full 
 of contrition now! When the trees and brush 
 hid her from the road, she turned and listened 
 tensely. In a moment she would hear his step 
 rustling through the leaves! But the stillness 
 was absolute. 
 
 Then came the faint sound of wheels. He had 
 driven on! He had taken her at her word and 
 left her there! 
 
 She stumbled a few steps deeper into the 
 woods and threw herself on a bed of leaves. She 
 would lie there until he came for her! She 
 would lie there until he came. Blindly, pas- 
 sionately she said it over and over again to her- 
 self. 
 
 It was some time before she realised that her 
 head was resting on the bare root of a tree, and 
 the rough bark was pressing cruelly into her 
 cheek. She moved slightly and her head lay in 
 the leaves. The odour of the earth came up 
 fresh and pungent. But the ground was cold 
 and damp she felt the chill of it through her 
 body. 
 
 Gradually the fierce anger died out of her 
 heart, and in its place came a fearful sense of her 
 desolation. The leaf-stirred stillness of the
 
 TRIP TO THE COUNTRY 217 
 
 woods seemed filled with a shuddering pause, a 
 hushed expectance of some lurking horror. 
 
 If he should not come! What had he called 
 to her as she entered the woods? Why had she 
 not stopped and listened? Again and again she 
 recalled the sound of his voice and tried in vain 
 to fit it to words. 
 
 A quick rustle of the leaves near by! She 
 started up, her heart aleap. It was only a squir- 
 rel gazing at her with bright startled eyes as it 
 whisked up a tree trunk. 
 
 She sank back in quivering disappointment, 
 burying her face in her arm to shut out the sight 
 of the woods. There was something vaguely 
 comforting in the familiar warmth and feel of 
 her cloth sleeve as it pressed against her eyes, 
 and in the blurred blackness that wavered be- 
 neath her closed lids. 
 
 Then came a distant sound of snapping twigs 
 and trampled brush that was unmistakable. 
 Again she sprang up. Far to the right was a 
 glimpse of his grey overcoat disappearing 
 amongst the trees. He had not seen her he 
 was going away from her! To call out to him 
 now would mean a pitiful confession of her 
 weakness her lack of courage. No he must
 
 218 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 find her! Her indignation was still strong 
 within her. She hurried on in the direction he 
 had disappeared, hoping he would hear her and 
 turn. At length the fear of being lost forced 
 her to pause. 
 
 The silence now seemed even more sinister than 
 before. Once more she sank down by the trunk 
 of a tree. The shadows deepened around her. 
 She could no longer cling to the hope of his com- 
 ing back. He had made only a perfunctory ef- 
 fort to find her. The encroaching darkness now 
 filled her with terror. She must go back to the 
 road and make her way to the nearest railway 
 station. It was growing colder ; a raw wind had 
 risen from the east. She was shivering with the 
 cold. 
 
 With difficulty she found the road again. As 
 she came out upon it there was a distant sound 
 of wheels. Nearer and nearer they came was 
 it too heavy for a trap was it ... It was only 
 a farmer's wagon ! 
 
 She choked back the sob in her throat and 
 turned down the road. Why had she not asked 
 the farmer to take her to the nearest station? 
 She dragged herself on, but met no one else; 
 there was not even a farmhouse from which she
 
 TRIP TO THE COUNTRY 219 
 
 could ask the way. The long stretch of wooded 
 road seemed endless. 
 
 And then as she reached the top of a slight hill 
 there before her was a bay horse and a red- 
 wheeled trap! A bay horse and a red-wheeled 
 trap it seemed to fill the whole horizon, to 
 stand out before her, to stamp itself on her brain 
 as nothing had ever done before. 
 
 But the trap was empty it was hitched to a 
 tree near the fence. For an instant a great fear 
 chilled her heart. And then she saw him com- 
 ing out from the woods. His face was white and 
 set. Instinctively she shrank back. 
 
 He saw her then. For a moment he stood 
 quite still. She did not move to meet him; her 
 limbs seemed incapable of movement. The flash 
 of joy that crossed his face changed and 
 hardened as he came toward her. She was 
 strangely conscious of the awkwardness of their 
 position as they stood facing each other there 
 in the road. 
 
 "Did you do this to frighten me, Margaret? 
 Was that your plan? " His voice was curiously 
 quiet. When she did not answer, he added still 
 more quietly, 
 
 " I hope you didn't do it for that purpose it
 
 220 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 would be very hard to forgive you if you 
 did." 
 
 Hard to forgive to forgive her! She caught 
 her breath. 
 
 " Shall I put you in now? " 
 
 She submitted dumbly while he put her in 
 the trap. Once more he turned Prince down the 
 road. 
 
 " You're shivering? Are you cold? " 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 He took an extra robe from under the seat and 
 wrapped it about her. But there was no warmth 
 or tenderness in his manner ; only a formal cour- 
 tesy. As he arranged the rug, accidentally he 
 touched her hand. Even through the glove it 
 was icy cold. Then he noticed the purplish pal- 
 lor of her lips. 
 
 " You're chilled through. Where were you? " 
 His voice was still colourless but there was some- 
 thing in it now that forced an answer. 
 
 " In the woods." 
 
 " I've been searching the woods for two hours, 
 but of course if you tried to hide it would be 
 impossible to find you." 
 
 " I didn't try to hide. You passed very near 
 but"
 
 TRIP TO THE COUNTRY 221 
 
 She felt her mistake, but it was too late to re- 
 tract it now. And at that moment she did not 
 care she had reached the stage where nothing 
 made any difference. 
 
 " Then you saw me? " He repeated it. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And you made no sign?" 
 
 " That was at first if you had come 
 back . . ." 
 
 " So I was right. You wanted to thoroughly 
 frighten me to be sure I would be humble, 
 cringing and remorseful. You've used similar 
 methods before. I'll not be so easily fooled 
 again." 
 
 She made no reply. Physically and mentally 
 she was incapable of further effort. The pro- 
 longed strain, the whole day without food were 
 now having their effect. She was staring down 
 at the wheels, watching the small clots of earth 
 fly from the spokes, miserably conscious that he 
 was looking at her. Her head drooped his 
 gaze seemed bearing upon her like a physical 
 weight. Was his anger changing to pity? Still 
 her eyes were fixed on the whirling wheels. 
 
 " I'm afraid you're very cold and tired. We'll 
 stop at the first road-house; we must come to one
 
 222 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 soon. Bradford cannot be very much farther 
 now." 
 
 But his solicitude was forced, perfunctory. 
 
 A shabby farm house stood by the road a short 
 way ahead. He drew up by the fence and called 
 to a man who was chopping wood in the yard. 
 
 " How far is Bradford from here? " 
 
 " Bradford? Why you're goin' right away 
 from Bradford. It's about eighteen miles down 
 the road." 
 
 "Eighteen miles down the road?" 
 
 "Yissir. Where'd you start from?" 
 
 From Fairville." 
 
 "Fairville! Then you've been on the wrong 
 road for about twelve miles. Must have taken 
 the wrong turn at the first cross roads this side 
 of Fairville!" 
 
 The first cross roads this side of Fairville! 
 It was there she had begged him to inquire the 
 way. But now she did not glance up or seem as 
 though she had heard. 
 
 The man came down to the gate. "Now I 
 guess you can make that about thirteen miles if 
 you go back by way of Camp Creek it's a bad 
 road but it's five miles saved that way. You 
 can let the bars down and cross thro' that
 
 TRIP TO THE COUNTRY 2*3 
 
 meadow over there and get on the Camp Creek 
 road." 
 
 " Thank you, but the lady is not strong enough 
 to drive any further now. Is there a road house 
 near here? " 
 
 "Yessir. There's a pretty good road house 
 just about half o' mile straight ahead." 
 
 He thanked the man and drove on. He made 
 no comment on the information ; he did not speak 
 again until they reached the road house. 
 
 It was a faded white house with a wide porch. 
 A discoloured sign, " Parker's Inn," hung over 
 the gate. A small dog ran out and barked at 
 them excitedly. Then a man in his shirt sleeves 
 came from around the back of the house. He 
 held the horse while Whitman lifted Margaret 
 from the trap. 
 
 " We've been driving some time and the lady is 
 thoroughly chilled. Have you a place with a 
 good fire, and something hot to drink at once? " 
 
 " Yes sir, we can fix you up, sir." 
 
 The man hitched the horse and led the way 
 into the house. He opened the door into a small 
 low-ceilinged room, evidently the " parlour " 
 from the organ and marble-topped table. Back 
 of this was the dining room, with a long table
 
 224 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 and two small ones, all covered with red checked 
 cloths. Both rooms were cold and damp. 
 
 " It's too cold in here you've no fires? " 
 
 " We'll build one right away, sir." There was 
 a small drum stove in both rooms. 
 
 " That'll take some time. Have you no fire in 
 the house?" 
 
 "Well, sir, there's one in the bar room if 
 you wouldn't mind goin' in there for a few min 
 utes." 
 
 The bar room was across the hall ; a long room 
 with a bar at one end, and at the other, a large 
 fireplace with a smouldering log fire. A couple 
 of men who were standing by the door, stepped 
 out on the porch as they entered. 
 
 The man threw some more logs on the fire 
 while Whitman drew up a large wooden rocker 
 for Margaret. She was still blue and shivering 
 with cold. 
 
 " Now if you'll bring a hot scotch " 
 
 "Hot scotch? Yes, sir for two?" 
 
 There was a pause. Margaret's clasp tight- 
 ened on the arm of her chair. Then he answered 
 quietly : 
 
 " No just for the lady." 
 
 The small dog that had barked at them so
 
 TRIP TO THE COUNTRY 225 
 
 fiercely, came in now, sniffed at Margaret's skirt 
 and curled up on the hearth at her feet. The 
 thump of its tail on the floor and the crackling of 
 the logs were the only sounds for several mo- 
 ments. Then the man came over with the steam- 
 ing drink. Whitman took the glass and placed 
 it on the arm of her chair. Margaret sipped at it 
 reluctantly; the odour of whiskey had always 
 been distasteful. 
 
 " Don't sip it. Drink it all at once if you can. 
 It'll keep you from taking cold." 
 
 Then he turned to the man who seemed to be 
 both proprietor and barkeeper, and asked if they 
 could have something to eat at once. 
 
 " Supper will be ready right away, sir. And 
 will I put up your horse, sir? I reckon you 
 count on staying all night? Your wife don't look 
 fit to travel much further." 
 
 The pause was only for a second. " We've not 
 decided about the night, but the horse will have 
 to be put up and fed." 
 
 "Your wife" . . . The word seemed still to 
 hang on the air. Had it thrilled or repelled him ? 
 She felt the possibilities both ways. They were 
 alone now. From outside came the grating of 
 wheels as Prince was unhitched and led off to the
 
 226 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 stable. And then silence except for the 
 crackling fire. 
 
 He came over and took the empty glass from 
 her and set it on the mantel. Then he stood 
 there looking down into the fire. 
 
 The heat was now burning her knees through 
 her skirt, but she did not move back. She 
 vaguely felt that the slightest movement on her 
 part would change the situation that waited 
 tensely for him to speak. 
 
 At length he came over to the chair beside her. 
 "Are you warmer now?" He took one of her 
 hands. "Your hands are much warmer." 
 
 A sick disappointment possessed her ; she had 
 hoped for something so different. He still held 
 her hand, with a slight pressure, in both of his. 
 But she did not return the pressure. He must 
 come farther he must do more ! She could not 
 meet him half way the fault had not been hers. 
 Again the lump came in her throat. Again she 
 saw him hurling the lunch into the road the 
 lunch she had so lovingly prepared! The sting 
 of it all came back to her. 
 
 All the child in her nature was uppermost now. 
 She had been hurt, deeply, cruelly hurt. The 
 least he could do was to make some expression of
 
 TRIP TO THE COUNTRY 227 
 
 his remorse and instead he wished merely to 
 ignore it. 
 
 He dropped her hand and walked back to the 
 fire. The heat on her knees was becoming un- 
 bearable. She moved back a little. A log had 
 rolled out on the hearth. She watched him push 
 it in with his foot. Then she watched the glow- 
 ing cinders where the log had lain; one by one 
 they went out. 
 
 A stout kindly looking woman in a blue calico 
 dress opened the door. 
 
 " There's a fire in the dinin' room, now, if the 
 lady would like to come in there. I'm puttin' 
 your supper on the table." 
 
 The dining room was lit by a couple of oil 
 lamps. From a window one saw that it was quite 
 dark outside. A fire roared in the small drum 
 /stove and the air was filled with an odour of heat 
 and stove polish. 
 
 The long table was set for a number of people ; 
 the woman placed them at the end by the stove. 
 With a painful self-consciousness Margaret 
 sipped at the glass of water in front of her. 
 There was a poignant awkwardness in sitting 
 there beside him in that way. He was toying 
 with the fork by his plate.
 
 228 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 "Where's that tea-strainer?" came a voice 
 from the kitchen. 
 
 " Eight there on the end of the cupboard." 
 
 And then, a little later : 
 
 " Guess I'll take this milk back in the cellar 
 if you ain't goin' to use it in the rice." 
 
 He turned to Margaret with a slight smile. 
 " If you're not too tired to take notes, this ought 
 to make very good copy." 
 
 " Yes, it would make good copy." Her voice 
 was as colourless as his. 
 
 In spite of the long day without food, neither 
 of them could eat very much. The constrained 
 silence was like a wall between them. He made 
 a few remarks about the room and food to which 
 she answered in monosyllables. The thought 
 of what would happen next was beating in her 
 mind. What would be the rest of this day? It- 
 was dark, now how could they go on? And 
 yet, how could they stay here? 
 
 The strangeness of the place and of their being 
 there was forcing itself upon her. Every detail 
 of the room she felt was being stamped indelibly 
 in her mind the paper flowers and china orna- 
 ments on the mantel behind the stove, the highly
 
 TRIP TO THE COUNTRY 229 
 
 coloured pictures in their gilt frames, the old- 
 fashioned " castor," the tall glass cake stand, the 
 cheap stiff lace curtains and the bright-flowered 
 wall paper. 
 
 " Will you wait here while I see what informa- 
 tion I can get from this man. There may be a 
 station near here, and a train into New York to- 
 night," 
 
 She waited there at the table, gazing through 
 the window at the darkness outside. A man 
 passed with a lantern. A dog barked somewhere 
 in the distance. 
 
 Then he came back into the room. " There's a 
 station only a mile and a half from here, but 
 there's no train to-night nothing until five in 
 the morning." 
 
 He was waiting for her to make some observa- 
 tion. 
 
 " Not until five in the morning? " she repeated 
 vaguely. 
 
 " I can see no other way but to stay here. 
 They've only one spare room, but I can lie here on 
 the lounge." 
 
 He paused. "Of course, if you've anything 
 else to suggest if you think you're strong
 
 230 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 enough to drive to the next town, we might get a 
 train there, but it's very dark and there's no 
 moon. It might be difficult 7 ' 
 
 " Yes, it would be difficult we'd better stay 
 here." 
 
 He flushed quickly, but the sarcasm in her 
 words had been unintentional. 
 
 The woman came in now. " The fire's already 
 laid in the spare room, sir. I'll go touch it off if 
 you're decidin' to stay." 
 
 " Yes, we'll stay," briefly. Then he turned to 
 Margaret. " Perhaps you'd like to go up now ; 
 you'll need the rest. We'll have to leave here at 
 4 :30 to make that five o'clock train." 
 
 " Eight up this way, ma'am," said the woman. 
 " I'll show you the room." 
 
 At the door, Margaret turned back and glanced 
 at him. 
 
 " Good-night," she said vaguely. 
 
 "Good-night" 
 
 When the woman had lit the fire and gone, Mar- 
 garet sat down on the edge of the bed and gazed 
 around at the shabby low-ceilinged room. And 
 this was the ending of the day, the day that had 
 begun so full of joyous expectance. It seemed
 
 TRIP TO THE COUNTRY 231 
 
 months since she had answered the telephone in 
 her apartment that morning. 
 
 She lay down now with a stupefied sense of 
 weariness. Her eyes ached and burned behind 
 their sockets even the muscles of her face 
 ached. She could think no more now. The im- 
 perative need for sleep was mercifully stronger 
 than everything else. 
 
 When she awoke, the lamp had burned low 
 and the room was filled with an odour of burnt 
 wick and coal-oil. The place was very still 
 the stillness of a late hour. She went over to 
 the window and drew up the halting ragged 
 shade. There was no moon; the blackness was 
 impenetrable except where the faint light from 
 under the window lay in a pale streak across the 
 ground and the wooden walk beneath. 
 
 She went back and again sat down on the edge 
 of the bed. The lamp was flickering out now, 
 throwing quivering shadows over the shabby wall 
 and floor. For the first time since that morning 
 her mind seemed clear the real meaning of the 
 day came to her. The rapidity of incidents, the 
 emotional stress, her hurt pride and almost 
 childish indignation, had, until now, blinded her 
 to the real horror and pity of it all.
 
 232 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 She saw now, in his drinking, only another in- 
 evitable result of the torturing strain he had been 
 under so long. His depression had been growing 
 for weeks, and now this was only another devel- 
 opment. It came to her, as it never had before 
 all the weakening, wrecking effects of their love. 
 
 The immediate cause of this particular inci- 
 dent was only a detail the night before made 
 sleepless by the reproaches of his wife, and then 
 the trip on the train without breakfast. He had 
 probably felt the need of more strength and en- 
 durance for the long drive before them and had 
 sought to throw off his weariness by the stimula- 
 tion of liquor. That its effect should have been 
 so pronounced only proved its use was not hab- 
 itual. She had never before noticed the slight- 
 est trace of it on his breath. But now what 
 would the future hold? Might he not turn again 
 and again to the stimulating effects of alcohol as 
 a relief from the almost unendurable conditions 
 of his life? 
 
 She was filled with an uncontrollable desire to 
 go to him, to put her arms about him, to shield 
 him, as it were, from the horror of this thing. 
 All her bitter resentment was forgotten now in 
 a great sense of tenderness and pity.
 
 TRIP TO THE COUNTRY 233 
 
 Where was he? He was somewhere in that 
 still house. There was something weird and 
 fearful about the silence and that flickering lamp. 
 She opened the door softly and listened. There 
 was no sound except her own creaking step. 
 Slowly she felt her way along the black narrow 
 hall. Her groping hand found the bannister 
 and followed it down the steps. 
 
 At the end of the hall below was a dim smoking 
 lamp. The door of the front room was partly 
 open ; the gleaming white keys of the organ stood 
 out in the darkness like the teeth of some snarl- 
 ing monster. Her heart was beating fearfully. 
 What had been only an irresistible impulse to 
 go to him, now became almost a panic-stricken 
 fear. 
 
 An overcoat that hung from a rack in the hall 
 brushed her face as she turned. It was his 
 even in the dark she knew ! She buried her face 
 in the soft satin lining it seemed to envelope 
 her, to fall lovingly around her. A tremor swept 
 through her at the faint fragrance of tobacco that 
 it held. Where was he? Why did he not come 
 to her? Was he in there? She turned the knob 
 noiselessly. The only light in the room came 
 from the open door of the stove, but it shone
 
 234 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 directly on his face as lie leaned back in a large 
 arm chair. 
 
 He started up, throwing his cigar in the fire. 
 For a second he stood there uncertainly. . . . 
 Then she was in his arms. Who had made the 
 first movement, neither of them knew. It was 
 like a blinding flash of light ; when it had passed 
 he was again in the chair holding her in his arms, 
 her face hid against his shoulder and his lips 
 resting on her hair. The room was again in still- 
 ness except for the faint roaring of the fire in the 
 chimney and the rattle of a window by the wind. 
 
 The sense of peace and contentment and 
 languor that came from the strength and security 
 of his arms was creeping over her like a narcotic. 
 Her doubts and fears of a few moments before 
 for the time were silenced. The comfort and 
 assurance of his love, of his physical strength and 
 presence, were with her again. 
 
 Once she raised her hand and timidly touched 
 his face and neck. Even the feel of the stiff edge 
 of his collar, the soft silky tie, the rough cloth of 
 his coat, thrilled her with a sense of his person- 
 ality. 
 
 Her thoughts drifted dreamily back over the 
 first months of their wanderings, the crowded
 
 TRIP TO THE COUNTRY 235 
 
 east-side streets, the shrill cries of children, the 
 haunting murmur of myriad lives. And then 
 came memories of hours by the sea-shore, the 
 glint of waves, the blue of summer skies, the 
 distant white of sails, the stretch of sandy beach, 
 the hotels gay with awnings and flags and bands. 
 
 He was gazing steadily into the fire. Was his 
 mind, too, filled with these same pictures? Now 
 and then, as if in response to some tender thought 
 or memory, his arms would draw her closer. 
 
 In the silence and tenderness of this hour she 
 knew ,they were nearer together, happier than 
 they had been for months. If she could only 
 hold those moments, keep them from passing. 
 But even then, from some far-off barnyard, came 
 the faint crow of a cock, a melancholy warning 
 of the dawn, the morning that would bring back 
 all the difficulties and estrangements of their po- 
 sition. She clung to him with a passionate long- 
 ing for some assurance of the permanency of this 
 hour, yet knowing that its very preciousness 
 would make it only the more fleeting.
 
 XVII 
 THE WOMAN'S ULTIMATE DEMAND 
 
 FOR days after the trip in the country he was 
 more gentle, more thoughtful ; he seemed to 
 make a greater effort to conquer his depression 
 and moodiness than ever before. He had divined 
 her fears and was trying to quiet them, to show 
 her that the incidents of the trip were purely an 
 accident and one that would not be repeated. 
 
 For this assurance Margaret was very grateful. 
 She tried to accept it without reservations; but 
 she felt that a crisis had been reached. More 
 and more she felt the impossibility of their going 
 on much longer as they were. For the first time 
 she admitted to herself that, at whatever cost, 
 she wanted him to give up everything and come 
 to her. 
 
 She had gradually withdrawn from all social 
 life, living only for the few hours he could be 
 with her, and, in the intervals between, for his 
 notes and telephone messages. Much of the time 
 she was ill, ill with a feverish unrest, with the
 
 THE ULTIMATE DEMAND 237 
 
 wearing strain of their relations, with constant 
 fruitless brooding. 
 
 As he saw her health and courage failing, he 
 did what he could to cheer and comfort her. He 
 was with her as often as possible and wrote and 
 telephoned her constantly. But he did it at the 
 expense of his work and peace at home. 
 
 With a feverish anxiety Margaret now began 
 to want some definite assurance for the future, 
 some definite promise that sooner or later he 
 would secure his freedom and be with her always. 
 But this assurance he could not give. 
 
 He knew that unconsciously she was now blam- 
 ing him for the very things he had at the begin- 
 ning feared that she would for the absorption 
 of her youth and love when he could give so little 
 in return. He had told her then that he was 
 hopelessly bound, and that he saw no way out. 
 But then she had felt that she would be content 
 and happy with just his love. And now she was 
 not content. She wanted more a great deal 
 more She wanted all that he had said he could 
 not give, all that every natural woman wants of 
 the man she loves that he should make her his 
 wife and shield and care for her in the security 
 of a home.
 
 238 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 It was the woman's inevitable demand for the 
 whole of the man. She can only delude herself 
 for a time that she will be satisfied with less. 
 
 With Margaret that time had now passed. He 
 knew that her demand would come soon, that she 
 could not much longer crush it down. And he 
 realised his utter inability to meet it. 
 
 It came one afternoon when he found her in a 
 mood of unusual agitation brought on by sleep- 
 less nights and incessant brooding. She burst 
 into a passion of tears, sobbing out that she did 
 not have the courage to go on alone any longer. 
 
 " I've tried oh, you don't know how I've 
 tried! But I haven't the strength or the cour- 
 age. You must do something to help me I 
 can't bear it any longer. Oh, I can't I can't! " 
 
 Before this passionate outbreak he stood help- 
 lessly silent. 
 
 At length he asked brokenly, " What can I do, 
 Margaret? What do you want me to do? " 
 
 " Give up everything and come to me ! It is 
 the only way," she sobbed. 
 
 " How can I leave her now? I cannot leave 
 her penniless." 
 
 " And you put money before my happiness." 
 
 " I must the money I owe her."
 
 THE ULTIMATE DEMAND 239 
 
 " But it isn't as if it was really her money 
 it's only money that you made and gave her." 
 
 " You know how I feel about that. It was her 
 share of my income ; I can never think of it differ- 
 ently." 
 
 " Oh, I know," despairingly. " I know you 
 are right ; I could not want you to feel otherwise. 
 But when you've made that back when all that 
 is straightened out Oh, if I could only have 
 something to look forward to something defi- 
 nite to hold to ! " 
 
 " Don't, Margaret, don't force me to make any 
 definite promise that I'll leave her. I'd feel even 
 more contemptible than I do now, knowing that 
 I'd deliberately pledged myself to sacrifice her. 
 If the time comes when we are swept off our 
 feet . . . But to plan it in this deliberate, cold- 
 blooded way! You promised once to help me 
 protect her to be content with just my love 
 never to ask this of me." 
 
 " I know I know I did," she moaned. " And 
 I meant it I was stronger then. But now 
 now I have no strength left." 
 
 " Then don't try to weaken me, Margaret. Let 
 me keep what little I still have." 
 
 For several moments he gazed moodily before
 
 240 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 him, then suddenly dropped his head in his hands. 
 
 " It looks so black so hopeless ! " 
 
 His voice, the droop of his shoulders, his bowed 
 head, stirred something deep in Margaret's heart. 
 She saw the greyness around his temples. It 
 had not been there two years ago, and now it 
 whitened daily. A lump rose in her throat. 
 She went over and knelt beside him. He did not 
 move ; it was some time before she spoke. 
 
 " I'm going to try to be more patient and not 
 worry you so! Oh, I'll try, dear I will!" 
 
 " It isn't that you do try. I know you do. 
 And I suppose you can't help it when you break 
 down. I know how hard it must be for you 
 but what can I do ? What can I do f " 
 
 He rose abruptly and put her from him almost 
 roughly. " Let's not talk about it. It never 
 helps, it only makes it harder for us both." 
 
 He walked nervously up and down the room 
 and then paused by a table and picked up a mag- 
 azine. 
 
 " I can only stay a little while. Let me read 
 to you it will be better than this hopeless dis- 
 cussion." He was turning through the maga- 
 zine. " Don't you want to lie here on the 
 couch? " He drew up a low chair beside her.
 
 THE ULTIMATE DEMAND 241 
 
 Margaret knew that she would be unable to fix 
 her mind on anything he might read, but she 
 leaned back obediently among the pillows. He 
 was still turning absently through the magazine. 
 Then she saw him start, his eyes fixed on a page. 
 Abruptly he closed the magazine and picked up 
 another. 
 
 "Here is the last 's," his voice was not 
 
 quite natural. " There'll probably be something 
 in this." 
 
 But Margaret had started up nervously. 
 " What was it you saw in that other magazine 
 why did you drop it so suddenly? " 
 
 " There's nothing in it it's simply a number 
 I've read." 
 
 But she had crossed over to the table, picked 
 up the magazine and was searching through the 
 table of contents. 
 
 " Listen, Margaret, I can stay only a few mo- 
 ments. We don't want to spend them in any 
 more discussions it'll only make us both more 
 wretched." 
 
 She did not seem to hear him. A swift glance 
 down the table of contents had revealed nothing, 
 and now she was sweeping through the maga- 
 zine. Suddenly a paragraph stood out.
 
 242 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 "... if another woman should ever become more neces- 
 sary to his happiness she had always said she would give 
 him up. Now, after twelve years, the test had come. Was 
 she strong enough? Could she do this thing give him to 
 another woman? . . . love, real love, meant the happiness of 
 the one loved . . . give up her home . . . each chair seemed 
 a part of her ... go away alone . . . rest of her life 
 alone . . ." 
 
 On the opposite page was a picture of a middle- 
 aged woman stooping over a trunk, the room in 
 the confusion of packing. Underneath were the 
 words, " She would take only this old smoking 
 jacket that much of him she would carry 
 away." 
 
 Margaret raised her eyes and met his. 
 
 "It is this!" 
 
 He did not answer. 
 
 She swept back to the first page the second 
 the third. In a moment, with her marvellous 
 ability for tearing the heart from a story almost 
 at a glance, she had grasped it all. 
 
 "What has happened? It's something more 
 than merely your reading this she must 
 have " 
 
 " She read it to me," tensely. 
 
 "She read it to you?" 
 
 " She came down to the library one evening 
 and asked if I had time to listen to a short story.
 
 THE ULTIMATE DEMAND 243 
 
 Then she read me that. When she had finished, 
 she laid the magazine on the arm of my chair 
 and went upstairs again. She made no com- 
 ment on it whatever her silence was stronger 
 than any comment." 
 
 Margaret was clasping and unclasping her 
 hands. "Oh, it must be horrible. I think 
 I begin to realise now just how horrible 
 your life must be. She's always with you a 
 constant living reproach, making you feel in a 
 thousand ways the strength of her claim. Oh, I 
 can imagine the allusions and references ! I can 
 imagine her referring with pretended careless- 
 ness to some notorious divorce where the man 
 leaves his wife for an actress or chorus girl. 
 Every newspaper now is full of loathsome ac- 
 counts of infidelities, of scandals, and divorce. 
 All that is in her favour. I've never spoken of it 
 before I shrank from referring to it in any 
 way. But you must have felt it, too the deg- 
 radation of it all! It seems Oh, I cannot 
 tell you how I feel about it ! " 
 
 " I've felt it all, Margaret, but I hoped you 
 had escaped that it had not affected you in 
 the same way. That's why I've never spoken to 
 you about it."
 
 244 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 " How could I escape? I can never pick up a 
 paper without being confronted by some glaring 
 hideous travesty of love and I throw it down 
 with a fierce hope that you've not seen it too. 
 I've tried not to see those things tried not to 
 read them. But there are times oh, I hardly 
 know how to explain it when they've a sort of 
 horrible fascination for me. The Wenford case 
 you remember that? " 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 " For days I followed it I hated and loathed 
 myself but I couldn't help it!" 
 
 " I know, dear, I think I understand. I've 
 had something of that, too. It's only that we're 
 morbid, that we've brooded over all this too 
 much. It's only another result of the unnatural- 
 ness of our lives." 
 
 When he was leaving, he picked up the maga- 
 zine. 
 
 "I want to take this with me, Margaret; I 
 don't like to think of your reading it now." 
 
 " I might as well read it as to lie awake all 
 night wondering what is in it imagining much 
 more than it could possibly contain." 
 
 " Yes, I suppose so." He laid the book back 
 with a sigh.
 
 THE ULTIMATE DEMAND 245 
 
 That night Margaret read the story again and 
 again with a feverish intensity. It was by a 
 well-known writer of short stories, and was writ- 
 ten with unusual skill. 
 
 The theme was in no way new or original, and 
 there was no attempt to make it so. It was sim- 
 ply, but strongly written. It was the story of a 
 woman past middle age, who, after twelve tran- 
 quil years with her husband, discovers that he 
 loves another woman, and that for her sake he is 
 fighting against it and trying to crush it out. 
 
 Many times during those years she had said 
 proudly, in the security of his love, that if it ever 
 ceased to be love, that if another woman ever 
 took her place in his heart, she would want him 
 to have her. She would go away she would 
 give him up. 
 
 The scene in which the wife finally decides to 
 live up to this, now that the test has come, was 
 very strong. The description of her packing was 
 vividly real of her going over the house, taking 
 good-bye of each room, each piece of furniture 
 which from all these years of possession had be- 
 come a part of her. All these she would leave, 
 she would take only her personal clothing, noth- 
 ing of his except the old smoking jacket She
 
 246 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 had told herself that she would take one just 
 one thing that belonged to him. And after a 
 heart-breaking hour in his room she catches up a 
 worn smoking jacket and buries her face against 
 it. If only it would hold always that odour of 
 tobacco! If she might always have something 
 that would bring him back to her so vividly. 
 She gathers up a handful of cigars from a box 
 on the table and slips them into the coat pocket. 
 In the loneliness of the years to come, she will 
 bury her face in that coat and it will still have 
 that odour it will still seem almost as though 
 his arms were around her. 
 
 She packs the coat in the bottom of her trunk 
 with all his photographs that she had gathered 
 from all over the house. These at least belong to 
 her, she tells herself passionately, for they were 
 taken when he belonged to her. All of her pic- 
 tures she takes all except one, and that, after 
 a struggle she leaves. It is an old-fashioned pic- 
 ture of a young girl in a muslin gown, taken 
 when they were engaged. The woman he loves 
 now could not be fairer than she was then ! She 
 glances at her poor lined face in the mirror. Oh, 
 what a pitiless thing is age to a woman age 
 that fades and withers. It is because of this
 
 THE ULTIMATE DEMAND 247 
 
 that her husband now loves a younger, fresher 
 face. 
 
 The story ends with a dramatic, almost a melo- 
 dramatic, incident, which brings out the light, 
 frivolous, selfish nature of the other woman, and 
 brings to the man a consciousness that his love 
 for her is only an infatuation. He follows his 
 wife and brings her back to their home with a 
 deeper realisation of his need of her. 
 
 For days this story haunted Margaret. She 
 tried to escape it to put it aside. But the pic- 
 ture of the middle-aged woman stooping over the 
 trunk was always before her. All her former 
 ideas and conceptions of his wife now seemed to 
 fade away, and in her mind it was that woman by 
 the trunk who was his wife. Again and again 
 she pictured her going through the house, taking 
 leave of all the things that had made up her life 
 for so long. 
 
 With her vivid, persistent imagination, she 
 lived through what this woman must have suf- 
 fered in the past two years, with the ever-increas- 
 ing fear that she was losing her husband, that he 
 was growing away from her, and that she no 
 longer had youth or beauty with which to hold 
 Mm.
 
 248 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 For the first time Margaret realised the full 
 strength of his wife's claim the claim of all 
 those years. She understood, as never before, his 
 efforts to shield her; and something of what he 
 felt when he said " How can I leave her a 
 woman with whom I have lived for fifteen years, 
 a good woman who is dependent on me for her 
 happiness ? " 
 
 She would help him shield her, she would crush 
 out all bitterness and jealousy, she would ac- 
 knowledge and respect this woman's claim. She 
 remembered with a fervid sense of gratitude that 
 he had said a few days ago : " She is more con- 
 tent now than she had been for months, for she 
 feels that I no longer see you." 
 
 She would do nothing to disturb this content- 
 ment, she would be satisfied with less than she 
 had ever had, would see him less, take less of his 
 time. 
 
 And all this she did to silence something within 
 her, something before which she blanched and 
 quivered, something that said there was only one 
 way, only one thing that was right to go away 
 to give him up altogether. Desperately she 
 strove to crush out this thought, to appease it by 
 any other sacrifice.
 
 THE ULTIMATE DEMAND 249 
 
 All the ways in which she had justified her 
 position in these two years seemed painfully in- 
 adequate now. Her vindications seemed the shal- 
 lowest sophistries. She tried to strengthen them, 
 to reassure herself, to get back some of her old 
 beliefs and convictions ; but now they eluded her. 
 Everything seemed slipping away. The strong- 
 hold of her defence had at last been assailed.
 
 XVIII 
 DESPERATION 
 
 THE change in Margaret's attitude was very 
 marked. She was now very patient and 
 uncomplaining. She seemed no longer to rebel 
 at her position ; the feverish discontent was sud- 
 denly arrested. In many ways she made him feel 
 the lessening of her demands. 
 
 But her heart contracted with pain when she 
 saw with what relief he accepted this change, how 
 quickly he availed himself of his greater freedom, 
 with what readiness he acquiesced in any sugges- 
 tion from her that he should be with her less, that 
 he should give more time to his work. 
 
 She had once seen a play, a powerful play, in 
 which the problem dealt with was the triangle, 
 and in which the man's love for the woman who 
 was not his wife had ceased, but he felt himself 
 forced to keep up the pretence to her, just 
 as he tried to keep it up with his wife. 
 In some ways he felt his duty and obligation to
 
 DESPERATION 
 
 this other woman more strongly than if their tie 
 had been a legal one, that he owed it to her to 
 keep up the pretence even more than he owed it to 
 his wife. There were many things beside love 
 that he gave his wife the prestige and protec 
 tion of his name, the security of his home. But 
 all he could give this other woman was love 
 she had sacrificed everything for that. Could he 
 take it from her now? 
 
 At the time, the play had made upon Margaret 
 a strong impression, and now came the thought 
 that Graham's love might too have become a pre- 
 tence, a pretence laboriously kept up through a 
 chivalrous sense of loyalty. But this thought 
 was only fleeting; her assurance in the strength 
 and permanency of his love was too deeply rooted 
 to be suddenly shaken. Yet .some tendrils of 
 such a fear had fastened themselves around her 
 heart; she could not tear them all away. Now 
 and then she would feel their grip as she saw some 
 new proof of his willingness to remain away to 
 see her less and less. 
 
 " It's only because of his work because he's 
 neglected it for so long," she would tell herself 
 with a passionate conviction. And yet again 
 and again she felt the clutch of that fearful doubt.
 
 252 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 With a stronger self-control than she had ever 
 before exerted, she allowed these doubts and fears 
 no outward expression ; she refrained from mak- 
 ing any " tests " of his love, a thing a few weeks 
 ago she would have done with hysterical fre- 
 quency. 
 
 Kepeatedly she told herself that she must not 
 allow anything to weaken her resolutions the 
 picture of that woman by the trunk was still very 
 vivid, the realisation of her claim was still very 
 strong. And there was beside the feeling that 
 the anguish she felt whenever this thought of his 
 waning love possessed her, was only a little of 
 what his wife must have felt as for months she 
 had watched him growing away from her. 
 
 This forced repression, this constant eating 
 out of her heart alone was even worse for Mar- 
 garet's health than it had been when she gave 
 vent to her emotions, when she sobbed out her 
 unhappiness in his arms. Her mirror reflected 
 a face that was becoming daily more wan and 
 colourless yet he did not seem to see it. She 
 was ever torturing herself with the thought that 
 if he loved her could he be so indifferent to 
 her health? 
 
 Over a month had passed in this way, when
 
 DESPERATION 253 
 
 something happened that broke down her self- 
 control, shattered her resolutions and brought 
 back all the old feeling of bitterness and re- 
 volt. 
 
 It had been four days since she had seen him, 
 and to-night he was to take her to dinner. They 
 had not dined together for several weeks, and 
 now she looked forward to it with eager long- 
 ing and with the hope that it might bring them 
 nearer. She reached the elevated station, where 
 they were to meet, a few moments early. She 
 waited at the far end of the platform, looking 
 down on the crowded street. 
 
 Then she became conscious that a man was 
 walking back and forth staring at her steadily. 
 Annoyed, she moved nearer the railing. But he 
 continued to walk by, passing so near that he 
 brushed her dress, and tapping his cane lightly 
 on the ground. A train drew up, but he made 
 no effort to take it, and Margaret realised that 
 he might think her own waiting was to encourage 
 him. Another train passed and as Margaret 
 still waited, he thought his conquest was com- 
 plete. He stepped to her side, raised his hat 
 and said "Good evening." 
 
 Without glancing toward him, Margaret swept
 
 254 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 past, back into the waiting room. Her face 
 was crimson and her breath came fast. Her 
 fierce indignation was not only against the man 
 who had spoken to her, but also against the one 
 for whom she was waiting, who allowed her to 
 meet him at elevated and subway stations, thus 
 exposing her to the possibility of such insults. 
 
 At first he had been very reluctant to have 
 her meet him in this way, but lately he had come 
 to take it for granted. Had she made a mis- 
 take? In her eagerness to make things less dif- 
 ficult, she had protested that she was willing to 
 meet him anywhere, that, as she understood the 
 need, she would not feel the humiliation. But 
 after all does not a woman cheapen herself by 
 any concession of this kind? Would he not, 
 perhaps, have valued her more if she had made 
 him feel that she could not do this if she had 
 held herself more aloof? The very difficulties 
 in the way of seeing her would have made him 
 only the more determined to overcome them. 
 
 At that moment she felt keenly the humilia- 
 tion not only of her willingness to meet him in 
 this way, but of many other concessions that she 
 had made to facilitate their being together 
 to make it less difficult for him. It seemed to
 
 DESPERATION 255 
 
 her now that she had tried to smooth the way 
 by countless concessions of her pride and re- 
 serve. And how serenely he had come to ac- 
 cept these concessions with how few protests ! 
 
 Just then, through the open door that led out 
 to the platform, she saw him step from the train. 
 He looked up and down the platform, glancing 
 at his watch, and finally saw her through the 
 door. 
 
 She told him at once of the incident of the 
 insolent confidence with which the man had 
 spoken to her. She made no attempt to conceal 
 her agitation or her bitterness. But even as he 
 expressed his regret that it should have hap- 
 pened, and said they must find some way of meet- 
 ing that she would not be so exposed, she was 
 conscious of the most poignant disappointment. 
 There was something lacking in his concern. It 
 was, of course, not quite perfunctory, but it did 
 not ring with the tense solicitude that he would 
 have felt a year ago. 
 
 All through the dinner it seemed to Margaret 
 that he was farther from her than ever before. 
 It had been four days since he had seen her, and 
 yet he had nothing, almost nothing, to say. 
 Part of the time he seemed preoccupied, almost
 
 256 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 to absent-mindedness ; and again it was as though 
 he were making an effort to keep the conversa- 
 tion confined to the commonplace, to avoid any- 
 thing that might lead to personalities. 
 
 Margaret herself felt too heartsick, too bitterly 
 disappointed, to make any effort to keep up even 
 a pretence at conversation. She merely toyed 
 with the food before her; it was almost impos- 
 sible to swallow past the lump in her throat. 
 But he failed to notice that she did not eat. 
 The waiter removed her plates almost un- 
 touched, but still he did not notice. 
 
 There had been a long silence, when suddenly 
 he leaned forward and said quietly, a slow, low- 
 voiced quietness which with him always meant 
 suppression. 
 
 " Margaret, I'm going to ask something of 
 you. I hope you'll not press me for the reason 
 and that you'll believe that it is as much for 
 your sake as for any one else ! " 
 
 She looked at him wonderingly. A short 
 pause, then he said abruptly, 
 
 " Will you go out of the city for a few days? 
 Some nearby resort any place where you'll be 
 comfortable? "
 
 DESPERATION 257 
 
 He was waiting for her to speak, but she only 
 gazed at him. Still he waited. 
 
 " I don't think I understand." Her lips were 
 colourless. 
 
 "No. I suppose I'll have to tell you the 
 reason." He paused. "Lately we've not dis- 
 cussed these things, and you've seemed less 
 feverishly discontented, more reconciled. That's 
 why I'm loath to bring up anything that may 
 agitate you now. And yet I cannot ask this of 
 you without giving you the reason. It's to save 
 you from a painful meeting with Mrs. Whit- 
 man. She is coming to see you." 
 
 "Coming to see me!" 
 
 " I'm afraid so." 
 
 " What do you mean? What has happened? " 
 
 " I shall not go into details, Margaret. I can 
 only say that she has found out I still see you, 
 and is taking this last desperate means to sep- 
 arate us." 
 
 " Oh, would she do a thing so undignified? " 
 
 He was silent. 
 
 " And you want me to go away to prevent it? " 
 
 " I think it will be best." 
 
 " Best for her! " passionately. " You're afraid
 
 258 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 for her to see me afraid I'll tell her the truth! 
 It's she you're always trying to shield it's al- 
 ways she ! " 
 
 "It's both of you. Do you realise what it 
 would mean if she should come? Could you ever 
 forget it? Can't you see I'm trying to save you 
 that? 
 
 There flashed before Margaret the possibility 
 of what it would mean of the horror of meet- 
 ing this woman. What would it be* like? 
 Would she come to denounce, to threaten or to 
 implore to plead with her to give up this man 
 who was her husband? Her mind was filled with 
 scenes detailed, vivid, harrowing scenes. 
 
 She was gazing down in her lap, alternately 
 crushing and straining at the napkin that lay 
 there. 
 
 "How how did this happen? We've been 
 together so little less than ever before why 
 should this happen now? " 
 
 " I told you I wouldn't go into details, Mar- 
 garet. It never helps. I've done far too much 
 of that in the past. It's enough that she should 
 suffer without my describing her suffering to 
 you."
 
 DESPERATION 259 
 
 It seemed to Margaret that with every word 
 he was drawing farther away from her. She 
 was filled with a cold desolation, a sense of 
 standing alone more alone than she had ever 
 stood before. 
 
 " I've asked this of you, Margaret, only be- 
 cause I wanted to save you both from something 
 that could only be most harrowing. You may 
 think it not necessary to go out of town that 
 you could merely refuse to see any one that might 
 call. But there's the possibility that in some 
 way she might elude the bell boys and come di- 
 rect to your rooms. However, I shall not try to 
 persuade you. Now that you know, you must 
 do as you think best." 
 
 " And when do you want me to go? " in a low 
 voice. 
 
 " If you go at all, it should be at once in 
 the morning." 
 
 "Very well. I'll go." It was hardly more 
 than a whisper. 
 
 He started to speak, and then paused as the 
 waiter came up to remove their plates. Mar- 
 garet gazed down the long cafe". The mirrors, 
 the lights, the gay groups of people it all
 
 260 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 seemed to blur before her, the whole scene 
 seemed unreal and far away, as though she were 
 gazing at it from some great distance. 
 
 " If I could help you more in this, I would. 
 But there are circumstances, which I would 
 rather not discuss, that make it impossible." 
 
 In silent acquiescence Margaret made the 
 slightest inclination of her head. Her eyes were 
 fixed on the pale yellow wine in her glass; then 
 she raised it and drank it all. And when a few 
 moments later the waiter refilled the glass, she 
 drained it again. 
 
 When they rose from the table, she saw him 
 glance at his watch. 
 
 " I suppose you know it will be impossible 
 now for me to spend the rest of the evening with 
 you. I can only take you home." 
 
 Again she only nodded. 
 
 It was not until they were almost to her apart- 
 ment that she realised all that his silence meant. 
 He was going to leave her like this without 
 planning or even asking where she was to go 
 without saying that in a few days he would come 
 after her. He was leaving her without her even 
 knowing when or where she would see him 
 again!
 
 DESPERATION 261 
 
 She clenched her hands and pressed her hot 
 face against the cool glass of the cab window. 
 It was a familiar street they were passing, a 
 street through which they had often wandered. 
 That quaint chop house on the corner how 
 vividly came back a cold, snowy night when they 
 had stopped there for a steaming hot punch. 
 He had drawn off her gloves tenderly and chafed 
 her hands, not only because they were cold but 
 because he wanted to hold them. And that 
 square with the lights shining through the dark 
 trees how often they had walked through 
 there. And now now he was sitting beside 
 her with a cold remoteness that was terrifying. 
 
 No no, he could not leave her like this! 
 He was waiting until the last moment, until they 
 were almost to her door, but then he would make 
 some plan, he would advise her where to go he 
 would say that he would come after her. 
 
 A dark church spire loomed before them 
 just three more squares! She caught her 
 breath two more one more! And still he 
 was* silent ! The cab drew up. He helped her 
 out. Motioning the cabman to wait, he walked 
 with her up the steps. 
 
 " There's nothing I can say to-night, Margaret,
 
 262 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 that would help either of us. I don't know 
 when I can see you. It will be harder now than 
 ever before. You'll have to be patient there 
 is no other way. I'll see you as soon as I can 
 after you return. Under the circumstances, it 
 would be better if you did not write, but if you 
 do, have the envelope typewritten and address 
 it to the office." 
 
 A brief good-bye and he was gone. 
 
 Crouched on the floor by the window, Mar- 
 garet had not moved since she entered her rooms. 
 The place was dark ; she had not waited to turn 
 on the lights as she rushed to the window for a 
 last straining glance after his cab. She had 
 not even removed her hat, and yet an hour had 
 
 An hour in which all the resolutions, all the 
 self-control of the last few weeks were swept 
 aside. There alone in the dark, with no sound 
 in the room except her own convulsive sobs, she 
 told herself passionately that because she had 
 tried, because she had made every effort to help 
 him, to demand less and less, to force down her 
 own heartaches and think of those of his wife 
 this was the result. He was letting the burden
 
 DESPERATION 
 
 of this exigency fall upon her alone he was 
 sending her away from him like this ! 
 
 What was it that had happened? In the con- 
 fused misery of her mind, that question beat un- 
 ceasingly. What could have reawakened his 
 wife's suspicions aroused in her such a des- 
 perate resolve and made him so cold and bitter? 
 Instinctively she felt that whatever it was, he 
 thought it was her fault that was why he had 
 been so hard. What was it? What did he think 
 she had done? For what cruel mistake was she 
 to suffer? 
 
 And then in a flash she knew it was her 
 story! Her story! After all this time his 
 wife had at last found the magazine! She 
 felt herself in the grip of a relentless inexorable 
 fate. 
 
 If it had come before, when his love was un- 
 wavering but now, now when she felt he was 
 growing away from her ! This had come now to 
 further estrange them to weaken his faith in 
 her and strengthen his pity for his wife! Oh, 
 it was fate fate a pitiless fate ! 
 
 She rose, stumbling across the room to turn 
 on the lights; the darkness had suddenly be-
 
 264 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 come intolerable it filled her now with a sort 
 of terror. Her foot caught on a small stool 
 that lay in the way; she fell, striking her fore- 
 head sharply on the arm of a chair. For a 
 moment she lay stunned, then rose blindly to 
 her feet, the pain in her head adding to the un- 
 reasoning sense of fright. 
 
 The days that must pass before she could see 
 him! The long hours she must spend alone 
 the fearful anguished hours, every moment filled 
 with torturing thoughts and doubts. She could 
 not live through those days ! He must help her ! 
 She must see him again now! He must help 
 her! 
 
 Desperately, and yet with a feeling that some- 
 thing was clutching at her, holding her back, 
 she rushed to the 'phone. No no, she could 
 not call up from here the girl at the switch- 
 board down-stairs was always listening. She 
 must go to some outside 'phone where she was 
 not known. 
 
 Margaret seemed now to be swept along by 
 some irresistible force outside herself. Already 
 she was in the hall, down the elevator and out 
 into the street. 
 
 The telephone at the corner drug store was
 
 DESPERATION 265 
 
 on a stand by the door. There was no booth 
 and the clerk would hear everything that was 
 said. But she knew of no other place near, and 
 her desire to reach him at once was now an ob- 
 session. 
 
 For all these months she had been so careful 
 about 'phoning to his house ; she had always felt 
 the risk and guarded against it. But she was 
 utterly reckless now. Her mind held no thought 
 but the feverish consuming desire to reach him 
 to tell him he must come to her that he 
 must help her! 
 
 She could hear a buzzing in the 'phone which 
 she knew meant the ringing of his number. 
 There was a long throbbing wait and then 
 
 " Hello ! " It was a woman's voice ! Was it 
 hers? "Hello." The voice called again and 
 still again, before Margaret could force the 
 words : 
 
 " I wish to speak to Mr. Whitman." 
 
 There was no answer, only a sound as though 
 the receiver had been dropped. Another throb- 
 bing silence. 
 
 " Hello ! " It was his voice now. 
 
 " I can't bear it," incoherently. " You should 
 not have left me like that. I must see you again
 
 266 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 now! You must help me you must come 
 to me if only for a moment ! " 
 
 " That is impossible ! " There was a strange 
 muffled note in his voice. 
 
 "You must you must I can't stand it! 
 I must see you ! " 
 
 " I tell you it's impossible." 
 
 "No no don't say that! Graham, listen 
 
 you must come you . . ." 
 A faint click in the 'phone. 
 
 " Hello ! Hello ! " in quivering fear. 
 
 But there was only an abysmal silence. 
 
 He had hung up the receiver he had deliber- 
 ately cut her off! The hot blood scorched her 
 face. She hurried blindly out of the store, away 
 from the glaring lights and inquisitive eyes of 
 the clerk. 
 
 Central might have cut them off ! She caught 
 at the thought with desperate hope. But she 
 must be certain. If he had done it pur- 
 posely . . . She would telephone once more, re- 
 gardless of consequences. She must know! 
 
 There was a drug store a few blocks farther 
 on a large store where they had booths. In 
 her feverish haste she almost ran. She reached 
 the place only to be told the booths closed at
 
 DESPERATION 267 
 
 eight o'clock, but there was a telephone on the 
 cashier's desk. A number of people were in the 
 store. No no, she could not 'phone before so 
 many she must go somewhere else. 
 
 She would take a cab to some large hotel 
 where there would surely be booths. But no 
 cab was in sight. She rushed on, hardly con- 
 scious of her feeling of impotent, helpless rage 
 at conditions. The red-banded window of a 
 cigar store shone from the next corner. With- 
 out stopping to think she ran in. 
 
 "Have you a telephone booth?" breathlessly. 
 
 The man looked at her for a moment. There 
 must have been something in her evident excite- 
 ment and distress that appealed to him, for he 
 said courteously, 
 
 " Yes, we have one. It is usually closed after 
 eight, but you can use it if you wish." 
 
 She murmured her thanks as he unlocked the 
 door of the booth, entered and closed it after 
 her. Her hand trembled so she could hardly 
 take down the receiver. 
 
 "3240 River!" 
 
 In the moment that followed she tried fran- 
 tically to bring some order out of the chaos of 
 her thoughts.
 
 268 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 " Hello ! There's your party," Central called 
 stridently. 
 
 "Hello!" His voice, but with the same 
 strange note. 
 
 " Did you ring off purposely a few moments 
 ago?" Margaret caught her breath. "Or was 
 it a mistake was it Central? " 
 
 " I don't know," it was a hoarse muffled under- 
 tone. 
 
 "You don't know? What do you mean?" 
 
 There was no answer. 
 
 "What do you mean? What do you mean?" 
 Her voice rose in quivering excitement. 
 
 " I mean that you're precipitating a crisis." 
 
 "A crisis? What has happened! Don't tor- 
 ture me like this. Tell me ! " 
 
 " I cannot." 
 
 "Then you must come to me now! I 
 cannot bear it. Graham ! Graham ! Think 
 what you're doing! I never asked you to come 
 to me before surely you owe me that much ! " 
 The words ended in a choking sob. 
 
 " Mrs. Whitman is here, in this room." He 
 spoke now with a sort of terrible distinctness. 
 " She has been here all along. She has heard 
 everything that has been said and knows who
 
 DESPERATION 269 
 
 it is that is telephoning. Now do you want to 
 say anything more?" 
 
 "Yes. I want to say that you must come 
 to me now. If you never come again I ask 
 that you come now ! " 
 
 " I cannot." Then again that faint click in 
 the 'phone. This time there was no doubt he 
 had hung up the receiver! 
 
 There was a red blur before her eyes as she 
 once more called Central. 
 
 "That number 3240 Eiver will you call 
 that again?" 
 
 He should hear her! He should know what 
 she was going to do. Nothing he could say now 
 would make any difference. She would not give 
 him time to say anything. She would hang up 
 the receiver this time. And then . . . 
 
 "I'm ringing 3240 River," shrilled Central. 
 "They don't answer." 
 
 " King them again you must get them ! " 
 
 Another beating silence that seemed to para- 
 lyse her whole trembling, weakened body as she 
 leaned against the side of the booth for support. 
 
 "3240 River don't answer," called Central 
 with a note of finality. 
 
 He knew she was calling and he was refus-
 
 270 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 ing to answer the telephone. It had come to 
 that! 
 
 She was only vaguely conscious of leaving the 
 booth and paying for the call. Outside the long 
 line of street lamps blurred indistinctly before 
 her. She made her way back to the drug store, 
 swaying a little as she walked. But when she 
 asked the clerk for four ounces of laudanum, her 
 voice was firm and clear. Laudanum was cer- 
 tain and merciful it brought only an unending 
 sleep. 
 
 "Have you a prescription?" the clerk asked 
 courteously. 
 
 "I didn't think it was necessary for lauda- 
 num." 
 
 " What is it to be used for? " 
 
 Why had she not anticipated that question? 
 She was compelled to hesitate as she tried to 
 force from her mind some plausible use. The 
 clerk glanced at her keenly. 
 
 " I'm afraid I cannot sell it to you without a 
 prescription." 
 
 What was laudanum used for? She repeated 
 it over and over as she dragged herself on to the 
 next drug store. A mind's picture of her 
 mother's medicine chest came before her. There
 
 DESPERATION 271 
 
 was always a small bottle with a brown stained 
 label marked laudanum. Even the odour and 
 bitter taste of the dark liquid came back to her. 
 As a child what had it been given her for? 
 And then the picture was complete her mother 
 had the bottle in one hand and a cotton-covered 
 toothpick in the other. 
 
 She met the clerk's query at the next drug 
 store with the reply that it was for an ulcerated 
 tooth. He gave it to her, but made her sign her 
 name and address in a register of poisons. 
 
 And now as she turned back to her apartment 
 she was filled with the consciousness that it was 
 over there would be no more suffering, no 
 more anxiety and suspense. All the misery and 
 heartaches of the last few months would be 
 ended. She looked down at the neat little 
 package in her hand. Within its white wrap- 
 ping and pink string lay oblivion. 
 
 In the many times she had thought of this 
 lately, there had always been the dramatic ele- 
 ment in it. She had always dwelt with a cer- 
 tain emotional pleasure on how he would throw 
 himself by her lifeless body in his anguished 
 remorse that he had not sacrificed everything to 
 keep her with him before it was too late.
 
 272 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 But now she did not think of that. She 
 thought only of oblivion, of rest, of cessation of 
 thought. She would not even take the trouble 
 to leave a note or arrange things in any way. 
 As soon as she reached her rooms she would 
 throw off her wraps, drink the laudanum, and 
 then lie down for an unending rest. 
 
 She held the bottle closer ; the thought that she 
 might drop it or spill it filled her with terror. 
 There was a feeling of security, of certainty, in 
 the four ounces, although she knew it would be 
 more than was needed. 
 
 The events of the last hour seemed very remote 
 now. The hotel loomed before her in the next 
 block strangely unfamiliar, as though a great 
 length of time had elapsed since she had left. 
 
 She did not even see the dark figure walking 
 up and down before the entrance. She was on 
 the steps when she started back with a muffled 
 scream. He was beside her ! His eyes gleamed 
 unnaturally dark from the pallor of his face. 
 
 Without a word he took the bottle from her 
 clinging grasp and tore off the wrapper. The 
 light from the doorway fell on the label. Then 
 she heard a crash far out in the street. 
 
 Eoughly he caught her arm and led her up
 
 DESPERATION 273 
 
 the steps and into the elevator. He threw open 
 the door of her apartment ; she had not troubled 
 to lock it when she left. She sank into a chair 
 and covered her face. 
 
 "And that was your solution? That was 
 your conception of revenge? You thought to 
 put an everlasting remorse into my life. But it 
 would not have been remorse! It would have 
 been contempt contempt for your weakness ! " 
 
 She cowered before him, shrinking farther 
 back into her chair. 
 
 " You told me if things ever came to a crisis 
 that you would help me, that if absolutely neces- 
 sary you would be content not to see me for 
 days. And now because I could not come to 
 you to-night, because on your account an inno- 
 cent woman has been driven to desperation, to a 
 condition so pitiful that mere humanity would 
 force me to stay by her side this is how you 
 would have helped me ! " 
 
 She rose, turned blindly toward the other room 
 as though to flee from his reproaches, and then 
 from very weakness sank into another chair. 
 After a long silence, he said less harshly, but 
 with an inflexible coldness in his voice: 
 
 " This morning she received through the mail
 
 274 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 a marked magazine containing your story and 
 an anonymous letter." 
 
 Margaret dropped her hands and turned her 
 face toward him. 
 
 "An anonymous letter!" 
 
 " An anonymous letter, implying very clearly 
 what that story was based on." 
 
 "No no! No one could have done that 
 no one knew." 
 
 He laughed harshly. " It seems that some one 
 does know and that they know a great deal." 
 
 She caught her breath. "And you thought 
 only of shielding her? You had no thought of 
 me of what any publicity would mean to me? " 
 
 " It will not be a matter of publicity. If it is, 
 you probably know I'll shield you at any cost. 
 But I did not owe it to you to leave her alone 
 in the condition she is now. I came to-night 
 only because of the fear that you would do some 
 reckless thing. She knows that I'm here." 
 
 "She knows that you're here!" 
 
 " She was in the room when you telephoned. 
 For some reason the receiver gave out the sound 
 your voice could be heard all over the room. 
 I tried to cut off and you rang up again. I 
 left her hysterical, with only a maid. But I
 
 DESPERATION 275 
 
 promised that after to-night I would never see or 
 communicate with you again." 
 
 " Then she knows . . . You admitted . . ." 
 
 " I admitted nothing. She heard what you 
 said over the 'phone." 
 
 "And you mean you intend to keep that 
 promise? " she whispered. 
 
 He did not answer. 
 
 " Graham ! " Even her lips were white now. 
 "You don't mean that? You can't . . ." 
 
 He turned on her fiercely. " Have I ever kept 
 it before? How many times have I made her 
 that promise? And have I ever kept it? She 
 says this is final, that if I ever see you .again 
 she will leave me in twenty -four hours. And yet 
 you know I'll keep on taking the risk. You 
 know I haven't the strength to stay away from 
 you long." 
 
 " Oh, don't say it like that don't make me 
 feel . . . 
 
 " How do you expect me to say it? What have 
 you done to-night but deliberately try to wreck 
 everything? Even after I told you she was there 
 in the room, you rang again and again. She 
 said she would walk out of the house then if 
 I answered that telephone again ! "
 
 276 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 " Oh, don't don't I can't bear it ! " She 
 dropped her head on the arm of the chair. 
 
 He waited until the paroxysm of sobs had 
 passed and then said coldly, 
 
 " It's useless to cry. I can feel no sympathy 
 for you now. I owe that poor woman something. 
 The thought of how you have deliberately hurt 
 and humiliated her may enable me to stay away 
 from you for a while." 
 
 " I told you how I wrote that story and how 
 I regretted it. Do you think it will help her for 
 you to taunt me with it now? " 
 
 " No, it will not help her," he answered dully. 
 
 " I did not write that in the spirit you think 
 I didn't want to hurt her. Won't you believe 
 me won't you believe that I mean that? " 
 
 "You probably mean that now." 
 
 " Oh, you don't believe me," she moaned. " I 
 know you don't believe me." 
 
 " Margaret, it isn't a question of my belief in 
 your motives," he answered wearily. " The re- 
 sults remain the same : the suffering and humil- 
 iation that story has caused her the needless 
 suffering. What we have done in the past I 
 have tried to justify because I felt that we could 
 not help it that our love swept everything be-
 
 DESPERATION 277 
 
 fore it. But this this seems so deliberate, so 
 wantonly cruel." 
 
 "Oh, don't don't say that!" She put out 
 her hands. 
 
 Only the flapping of a window shade broke the 
 stillness that followed. 
 
 " Your love for me is dead ! " There was a 
 note of finality in the misery of her voice. 
 
 " Love does not die so quickly. But there is 
 nothing I can say now that will help either of 
 us. You had better let me go, Margaret." 
 
 She was watching him now with straining 
 fearful eyes. " You mean you think it right 
 to leave me like this to leave me indefinitely 
 like this?" 
 
 " I haven't thought of it as a matter of right 
 or wrong; that phase of it would not influence 
 me now. It is simply a matter of humanity. 
 You've brought upon her this needless suffering 
 and humiliation, and I must do what I can to 
 make it less. I owe her that much." 
 
 " And you owe me nothing? " 
 
 " Margaret, can't you see the uselessness, the 
 futility, of all these discussions? " 
 
 " Oh, I cannot bear it ! " She groped her way 
 to him through blinding tears. " You must not
 
 278 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 leave me like this," she sobbed. " I cannot bear 
 it I cannot bear it ! " 
 
 But she felt that his arms held her only that she 
 might not fall ; there was in them no warmth 
 or love. He stood quite motionless, cold, un- 
 yielding. She felt that he was wondering when 
 she would let him go when her torturing im- 
 portunities w r ould cease. But even as she real- 
 ised the futility of her efforts, she could not re- 
 linquish them. She tried to draw his head down 
 to hers, to press her tear-wet face against his. 
 
 At length he said in a voice of utter weariness : 
 
 " If you'll only let me go quietly, Margaret. 
 I tell you frankly that just now the sight of emo- 
 tion repels me. I've been through too much of 
 it to-day. I'm sick of tears and agitations. I 
 feel that I cannot stand any more." 
 
 With a muffled cry she released him and sank 
 back against the wall. Without a word he 
 turned to the door. A second later it closed 
 after him.
 
 XIX 
 
 THE PRICE INEVITABLE 
 
 UNHEEDING the fine mist that was fall- 
 ing when he reached the street, he hur- 
 ried on with bent head and tense set features. 
 A shrieking fire engine swept by with a shower of 
 sparks, but he did not look up. The hose and 
 ladder wagons followed with thundering hoofs. 
 A crowd of small boys came rushing after, glee- 
 ful in their shrill excitement. He turned down 
 a quiet street. 
 
 A sound of a stifled sob and some one 
 grasped his arm. He turned. Margaret's white 
 face was beside him. 
 
 " Are you mad? " 
 
 She stood there bare-headed, the mist falling 
 on her hair and thin light dress. Both hands 
 were clenched tight over her heart. 
 
 " You must come back with me ! " 
 
 He did not speak. 
 
 " You must come back with me ! " 
 
 2T9
 
 280 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 " If you force me to go back with you now," 
 each word was like a slow lash, " it will ~be 
 for the last time" 
 
 " You must come back with me ! " 
 
 He turned and walked beside her, saying no 
 word to her. 
 
 Another engine swept by. They were only a 
 block from the hotel, a block over which Mar- 
 garet had fled in a breathless moment. But now 
 they seemed to be walking on and on. He did 
 not take her arm; he made no effort to shield 
 her from the misting rain. 
 
 For the second time that night the hotel 
 loomed before her, dark and menacing. The 
 steps the hall the elevator her rooms at 
 last. 
 
 " No no, you must not look at me like that ! 
 I couldn't help it I had to go after you ! I 
 couldn't let you leave me like that I couldn't 
 bear the thought of to-night and to-morrow and 
 the next day all the long hours living it over 
 and over ! " 
 
 " And what will you gain by this? " 
 
 " Oh, I thought you might understand that 
 you might be kinder ' 
 
 " That I might be affected by your melodramat-
 
 THE PRICE INEVITABLE 281 
 
 ics? Don't you think we've had enough of them 
 to-night? Will you let me go now?" 
 
 She took a step forward her face whiter 
 than he had ever seen it. 
 
 " Graham," she whispered, " don't you know 
 why why I've lost my self-control. . . . Why 
 I cling to you so desperately . . ." 
 
 For a moment she stood before him. Then 
 with a strangled sob, she dropped to the floor. 
 
 "What do you mean?" huskily. 
 
 Her only answer was a tightened clenching 
 of her hands as they lay out upon the rug. 
 
 From the street came the sound of returning 
 engines, swelling to a loud rush as they passed, 
 and growing gradually fainter again in the dis- 
 tance. Then she felt his arms around her. He 
 laid her on the couch and knelt beside her. At 
 last he spoke. 
 
 " Margaret, I'm ready to do whatever you 
 ask." 
 
 She lay with her face turned from him. 
 
 " I'll come in the morning. You can tell me 
 then what you wish what plans you think 
 best," 
 
 " What plans I wish? " she whispered. " Have 
 you no plans no wishes?"
 
 282 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 "We are under too much strain to talk or 
 think clearly to-night. If you'll wait until morn- 
 ing I'll try not to fail you in any way then." 
 
 Her face was still turned from him. For a 
 while he knelt there beside her, his head bowed 
 on his hand. At length he rose. He stooped 
 over and kissed her very gently. 
 
 " I'll come in the morning. Try to sleep to 
 forget everything until then." He waited a mo- 
 ment as though unwilling to leave her if still 
 she needed him. But she made no motion. Then 
 the door closed softly. 
 
 The street noises gradually ceased as the traffic 
 lessened into the night. And still she lay as he 
 had left her, her burning eyes fixed on the wall. 
 The room was tensely still. Only now and then 
 came the sound of some prowling cab. And 
 once the silence was sharply broken by angry 
 drunken voices some late rioters straggling 
 by. Then came the early morning sounds, the 
 rattling milk cart and noise of street cleaners. 
 
 It was ten o'clock when he came. Two large 
 trunks stood packed in the centre of the room, 
 and Margaret in a travelling suit was seated at 
 her desk clearing out its contents.
 
 THE PRICE INEVITABLE 283 
 
 She rose as he entered and stood holding to the 
 chair. He was very pale, his eyes dark with a 
 feverish brilliancy. He crossed the room and 
 kissed her gently. 
 
 She smiled faintly, " I'm all ready to go." 
 
 " To go? " Then he noticed the trunks and 
 the dismantled room. " Margaret, you're not 
 going now?" 
 
 " That was what you wanted yesterday for 
 me to go away." 
 
 " But I don't want that now surely you 
 know . . ." 
 
 She was not looking at him ; her head was bent 
 over some papers she was gathering together on 
 the desk. 
 
 " What have you done? " Her voice was low, 
 and curiously without expression, but her hands 
 trembled among the papers. 
 
 "What have I done?" 
 
 " What plans have you made? " 
 
 " I have come prepared to meet yours. I told 
 you that last night." 
 
 " And if I have no plans? " 
 
 He was silent. 
 
 "You've thought of no no way?" 
 
 " I know of but one way to tell her the
 
 284 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 truth all of it. And ask for my freedom." 
 
 "And you think she would give it to you? 
 You never thought so before." 
 
 " It is different now." 
 
 " Have you told her anything yet? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 "When will you?" 
 
 " At once if you wish it." 
 
 " If I wish it if / wish it ! Oh, Graham 
 Graham, does it mean nothing to you is there 
 nothing voluntary nothing spontaneous in 
 your attitude? Have you no thrilled thought 
 of the wonder of it of what it means? Oh, if 
 there was only a single note of what I so long 
 for in your voice ! " 
 
 " Margaret, I shall do the best I can every- 
 thing I can. Don't make it harder than you can 
 help." 
 
 " Harder? " She dropped the papers now and 
 faced him, holding tight to the back of the chair. 
 " No I'm going to make it easier oh, so much 
 easier! You needn't tell her you needn't 
 leave her! It is not true! I deceived you! It 
 was a last desperate effort to hold you and it 
 failed. What you offer me now is not from love. 
 Even your voice when you say: 'I will do
 
 THE PRICE INEVITABLE 285 
 
 whatever you ask ' is the voice of one who takes 
 up a burden who intends to pay unflinchingly 
 the debt he owes ! 
 
 " I've been blind not to see that for weeks only 
 the ghost of your love was left me. I don't think 
 you knew yourself memories and ghosts are 
 very strong, and it was those that still held 
 you. And yet I should have known! There 
 were so many things to tell me your long ab- 
 scences, your willingness to remain away, your 
 reluctance to talk of the future, the long silences 
 when we were together and oh, so many in- 
 tangible things! But I didn't know until last 
 night until you thought . . . 
 
 " No don't don't speak ! I know all you 
 would say all the contempt you have for this 
 deception. Leave me now without putting 
 it into words that is all I shall ever ask of you ! 
 Look I'm going in here to make it easier ! " 
 She turned to the adjoining room. " Now leave 
 quickly while I have the strength to let you 
 go!" 
 
 She ran into the room and tried to close the 
 door, but the edge of a rug was under it and it 
 would not quite come to. With her hands 
 clasped against her throat, she stood there in
 
 286 THE WOMAN ALONE 
 
 the centre of the room, her eyes fixed on the door. 
 
 Somewhere in the floors above, a pianola was 
 playing a strident air. A faint hissing of steam 
 came from the radiator in the corner. But there 
 was no sound from the next room he was still 
 there he had not moved ! She was not breath- 
 ing ; it was as though even her heart had stopped. 
 What did it mean? Was he hesitating was 
 he coming to her could it be ... 
 
 Then she heard his step. The outer door 
 opened and closed. And she knew that the room 
 was empty. 
 
 The distant pianola, with a culminative crash- 
 ing of chords, stopped abruptly. The radiator 
 alternately simmered and thumped. From the 
 street below came the shrill voice of a child at 
 play. 
 
 Margaret had not moved; she was still stand- 
 ing there in the centre of the room, still gazing 
 at the edge of the rug that had caught under 
 the door. 
 
 "And he will never know" the whispered 
 words came slowly. "He will never know that 
 it is true." 
 
 THE END 
 
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