Gruin had made her a few promises, perhaps. A man does when he is captivated. And Maria had begun to cling. At first it had been exhilarating. Men looked after her when she clicked up the sidewalk on those ridiculous, pathetic, appropriate little red heels to meet him. Gruin, who was not bad-looking, knew that he and Maria made a striking pair together. Nice to have a girl like that live only for your whims. Intoxicating to have such beauty almost abjectly at your command. Exhilarating to the ego to know that you can turn on such a love-stream. Natural to forget that it might be difficult to turn that love-stream off again. It wasn't long before Gruin had found that he was driving a force that could not be controlled much longer. And then it was annoying. No, more than that--it was rather terrifying! So he sat in the Lance Club lounge the afternoon of the evening which was to be the turning-point in his not very useful young life, and condemned Maria José. Any girl with any sense would have known that the affair must be transient. She was a garlic-eating cobbler's daughter. He was heir to a modest fortune and owned an old name. Had she seriously thought he meant to--marry her? She couldn't have! Yet she was certainly acting like it now. Gruin shifted in the leather club chair and sipped some of his cocktail. And he felt faint perspiration steal out on the palms of his hands as he reviewed Maria's recent conduct. When she clicked up on her red heels to meet him now, it was more often than not to burst into tears because she hadn't seen him last night or the night before--she demanded all of his time. When he talked of taking a trip, she stared deep into his eyes, tearful no longer, and advised him not to. There had been a newspaper rumor of his engagement to a debutante in New York, and---- * * * * * Gruin sipped his cocktail again. Rather, he gulped it for strength. He had at first thought it cute and picturesque of Maria that she carried a little knife in her garter just above her beautiful right knee. He didn't think it was at all cute now. So Gruin sat in the lounge of the sleek, quiet club and knew what had to be done. He had started something with Maria that would never die while she lived. If he tried to slide out of her life, she would raise a scandal that would ruin him with his righteous grandfather, from whom all monetary blessings flowed. If he tried to leave town, she would follow. If he tried to get it over quickly and finally by marrying some girl of his own class---- The knife at her knee was small, but it was slim and sharp, and it had been flashed more than once before his white face. Living, Maria, the cobbler's daughter, was a constant menace to Eldon Gruin. So Maria must die.