"I see through him," she chuckled. "He is trying to ease his dirty conscience by paying money down. It’s a slick trick—on a par with a promise to marry. He’s telling his filthy soul that he’s saving her mother’s life. The girl’s as blind as a bat—the average woman can only see one thing at a time; she’s simply bent on getting that money, and thinks of nothing else. But, Jane Hemingway—old lady—I’ve got you where I want you at last. It won’t be long before your forked tongue will be tied fast in a knot. You can’t keep on after me publicly for what is in your own dirty flesh. And when you know the truth you’ll know, too, that it all come about to save your worthless life. You’ll get down on your knees then and beg the Lord to have mercy on you. Maybe you’ll remember all you’ve done against me from your girl-days till now as you set with your legs dangling in the grave. Folks will shun your house, too, unless you rid it of contagion. But you _bet I’ll_ call. I’ll send in _my_ card. Me’n’ you’ll be on a level then, and we’ll owe it to the self-same high and mighty source." Ann suddenly felt a desire for the open air, as if the very walls of her house checked the pleasurable out-pourings of her triumph, and she went outside and strode up and down in the yard, fairly aflame with joy. All at once she paused; she was confronting the sudden fear that she might be fired by a false hope. Virginia, it was true, had agreed to go to Chester’s at the appointed hour, but might she not, in calmer moments, when removed from Langdon’s persistent influence, think better of it and stay at home? Ah, yes, there was the chance that the girl might fail to keep the appointment, and then— Cold from head to foot, Ann went back into the cottage and stood before the fire looking at the clock. It was fifteen minutes of ten, and ten was the hour. Why not make sure of the outcome? Why not, indeed? It was a good idea, and would save her days and days of suspense.