Yetta, startled out of profound sleep, sprang to her feet. Her head struck the light, which hung low, broke the glass shade; the jar dislocated the fragile film of the lamp. In the instant before the light went out, the only thing which Yetta realized was that her surroundings were unfamiliar. She had never been so frightened before in her life. When they told her afterwards that she had screamed, she could hardly believe it. She could not recall having done so. The first thing she was conscious of was that some one's arms were about her and Isadore's voice was saying,--ungrammatically but convincingly,--"It's me." After the hideous nightmare of fright, his accustomed voice, his strong arms about her, were utterly comforting. She told herself afterwards that she must have been partly over the verge of fainting, for Isadore kissed her and she made no motion--had no idea--of resistance. First, in the darkness, his hand had found the way to her neck and face; then she had felt the hot wave of his breath,--murmuring words which made no sense to her,--and then his lips on her cheek and mouth. She was never quite sure if she had kissed him back. Whether she had or not she knew she had been very close to doing so. But the moment of forgetfulness had been interrupted by the linotyper, running towards them and asking the cause of the commotion. At the idea of an onlooker, Yetta disengaged herself from Isadore's arms--just in time. The linotyper turned on a light. Isadore tried to laugh. "We scared ourselves nearly to death," he explained. "Comrade Rayefsky had fallen asleep. The sight of her scared me into upsetting a chair. That startled her awake. She jumped up so quick she broke the lamp." The linotyper was a good fellow. He unscrewed a lamp from another socket and substituted it for the one Yetta had broken, and went decently back to his work. Isadore seemed on the point of coming towards her, and Yetta retreated back of the chair. "How stupid of me to fall asleep. We won out at the convention. I came down to write it up. I must have just started to look it over when I went to sleep. You'll have to grind out an editorial on it. I'll finish it up at once." She sat down to her work. Isadore found it harder to bring his wits together. But her movement of retreat had been like a blow in the face to him. It steadied him a trifle--but only a trifle. He had kissed Yetta. All these years he had loved her. Suddenly--utterly unexpectedly--the Heavens had opened. He had held her in his arms, he had kissed her.