The arc light above him hung like a dreadful white-bellied insect hovering on two long black wings, and he saw a woman in sleet-soaked rags, bent almost double under a load of sticks collected for firewood. Her hair hung thin and gray in elf-locks, her red eyelids had lost their lashes so that the eyes appeared as those of a bird of prey. The wizened hands clutching the cord which bound the sticks seemed like talons. She importuned a passer-by for help, and, being denied, she cursed him; and Robert watched the wretched creature crawl away homeward--back to the slums. These were manifestations of the life of thousands in metropolitan history. Robert shook himself, shuddering, as though aroused from a trance. He had started out to go anywhere or nowhere, but the next hour found him in the presence of Cherokee, and she was saying: “How awfully fond you are of giving pleasant surprises.” “I am amazed at myself for coming such a night, and that too without your permission.” “We are always glad to see you, but Fred and I had contemplated braving the weather to go to hear Paderewski,” she said, sweetly. “Then don’t let me detain you, I beg of you,” he answered, with profound regret. “Oh, that’s all right, we have an hour or more, I am all ready, so you stay and go in as we do.” “No, I will not go with you, but will stay awhile, since you are kind enough to permit me.” And he laughed, a little mournfully. “Cherokee, I have come for two reasons--to tell you that I am going home to Maryland to see a sick mother, and to tell you----” He paused, hesitating, a great bitterness welled up in his breast; a firmness came about his mouth and he went on: “It is folly for you to persuade yourself that you could accommodate your future life to sacrifice, poverty--this is all wrong. When we look it coldly in the face it is a fact, and we may dispute facts but it is difficult to alter them.” There was no response from her except the clasping of the hand he held over his fingers for a moment. “I had no right that you should wait for me through years, for your young life is filled with possibilities. I, alone, make them impossible, and I must remove that factor.” “Robert! Robert! What does all this mean?” Her breathless soul hung trembling on his answer. “It means that I am going to give you back your liberty.” “And you?” she gasped. “I will do the best I can with my life. Please God, you shall never be ashamed to remember that you once fancied that you could have cared for me.” And then he could trust himself no further; the trembling fingers, the soft perfume he knew so well in the air, and the surging realization that the end was at hand, made him weak with longing. Cherokee was at first shocked and stunned at what he was saying? For a moment the womanly conclusion that he no longer cared for her seemed the only impression, but she put it from her as being unworthy of them both. Her manner was dignified, yet tender, as she began: