On and on the burning thoughts rushed in Mary-Clare's brain while she sat near Larry without seeing him. As surely as if death had taken him, he, the husband, the father of Noreen, had gone from her life. It did not seem now as if anything she had said, or done, had had anything to do with it. It was like an accident that had overtaken them, killing Larry and leaving her to readjust her life alone. "Why don't you answer?" Larry laid a hand upon Mary-Clare's shoulder. "Getting sleepy? Come on, then, we'll have this out to-morrow." He looked toward the door behind which stood Noreen's cot and that other one beside it. "I've fixed the room upstairs for you, Larry." The simple statement had power to accomplish all that was left to be done. There was a finality about it, and the look on Mary-Clare's face, that convinced Larry he had come to the point of conquest or defeat. "The devil you have!" was what he said to gain time. For a moment he again contemplated force--the primitive male always hesitates to compromise where his codes are threatened. There was a dangerous gleam in his eyes; a ferocious curl of his lips--it would be such a simple matter and it would end for ever the nonsense that he could not tolerate. Mary-Clare leaned back in her chair. She was so absolutely unafraid that she quelled Larry's brute instinct and aroused in him a dread of the unknown. What would Mary-Clare do in the last struggle? Larry was not prepared to take what he recognized as a desperate chance. The familiar and obvious were deep-rooted in his nature--if, in the end, he lost with this calm, cool woman whom he could not frighten, where could he turn for certain things to which his weakness--or was it his strength--clung? A place to come to; someone peculiarly his own; his without effort to be worthy of. Larry resorted to new tactics with Mary-Clare at this critical moment. The smile faded from his sneering lips; he leaned forward and the manner that made him valuable to Maclin fell upon him like a disguise. So startling was the change, that Mary-Clare looked at him in surprise. "Mary-Clare, you've got me guessing"--there was almost surrender in the tone--"a woman like you doesn't take the stand you have without reason. I know that. Naturally, I was upset, I spoke too quick. Tell me now in your own way. I'll try to understand." Mary-Clare was taken off guard. Her desire and sore need rushed past caution and carried her to Larry. She, too, leaned forward, and her lovely eyes were shining. "Oh! I hoped you would try, Larry," she said. "I know I'm trying and put things in a way that you resent, but I have a great, a true reason, if I could only make you see it."