Fred turned. The woman had gained the doorway of the place where she lodged and she was standing with an air of inconsequence as if she had nothing of any purpose on her mind except an appreciation of the night's dark beauty. He looked at her steadily ... It _was_ Ginger! She continued to stand, immobile, wrapped in the sinister patience of her calling. Fred could not take his eyes from her. "She's waiting for you," Storch said. Fred smiled wanly. "Do you want to go? ... If you do I'll wait--here!" Fred tried to conceal his conflicting emotions. He did not want to betray his surprise at Storch's sudden and irrational indiscretion. "Well, if you don't mind," he began to flounder, "I'll--" Storch gave him a contemptuous shove. "Go on ... go on!" he cried, almost impatiently, and the next moment Fred Starratt found himself at Ginger's side... For an instant she stood transfixed as she lifted her eyes to his. "Don't scream!" he commanded between his locked lips. "I don't want that man to know that--" She released her breath sharply. "Shall we go in?" she whispered. He nodded. Storch was pretending to be otherwise absorbed, but Fred knew that he had been intent on their pantomime. Her room was bare, pitifully bare, swept clean of all the tawdry fripperies that one might expect from such an environment and circumstance. She motioned him wearily to an uncompromising chair, standing herself with an air of profound resignation as she leaned against the cheaply varnished bureau. "Is this the first time--" she began, and stopped short. "No ... I've watched you every night for nearly two weeks." "What was the idea?" she threw out, with an air of banter. He stood up suddenly. "I wanted to see how much I _could_ stand," he answered. She closed her eyes for a moment ... her immobility was full of tremulous fear and hope. "Ah!" she said, finally. "So you did care, after all!" "Yes ... when it was too late." She crossed over to him, putting one wan finger on his trembling lips in protest. She did not speak, but he read the thrilling simplicity of her silence completely. "Love is never too late!" was what her eloquent gesture implied. He thrust her forward at arm's length, searching her eyes. "You are right," he said, slowly. "And yet it can be bitter!" She released herself gently. "You shouldn't have watched me like that ... it wasn't fair." "I didn't think you would ever know... And that first night I didn't intend to watch ... not really. After that it got to be habit... You've no idea the capacity for suffering an unhappy man can acquire." She took off her hat and flung it on the bed. "What made you follow me to-night?" "You came out of a clear sky ... when I needed you most ... as you have always done... I didn't think I could ever escape that man waiting for me below--not even for an instant... To-morrow, at this time, I may be dead ... or worse." "Dead?"