A girl, their babe--a hapless, little human, who was not to inherit even such paternal affection and care as could be spared from poppy paste. Another girl she had brought into a world which had no justice for unprotected girls.... Perhaps, if he did not come, it would be best that their baby be spared the learning of life--the humiliations, the disillusionments, the death-stab of love that lied.... Since he had not come, love _must_ have lied. Both her messages would not have gone astray. There was significance in this second failure. Too late to protect her from his weakness had come his strength. If he did not, _would_ not come---- She must be very ill; must have dozed off a while--that is, if the old woman told the truth about night having come again.... Likely she _had_ told the truth, for the room was quite dark, except for the one dim gas-jet lit in the old-fashioned chandelier. The landlady had come in to say that she wanted the room as soon as Dolores was able to get about. A refined adult--a single gentleman--had enquired about it that day. Mrs. Trevor should remember her saying from the first that she never took in dogs or babies. She knew what babies were--just one sick spell after another. And she had no space in the back-yard for regular laundry. She was a kind-hearted woman and honest about her bargains, the Lord knew. But she had herself to think of and the other folks in the house. She wasn’t one to worry a fellow woman sick-a-bed, but the gent had said he would stop in the morning for his answer. Naturally, she would need to name the exact day he could come. Her soft heart always had been her worst enemy, but business was business. After the old woman had dismalled herself out, Dolores’ gaze again strayed to the gas-jet. The turned-down flame fascinated her and seemed to make a light in her mind. It flickered an answer to the embarrassing question of when she could give over the room.... What time was it now?... Nine o’clock.... The day that was the life of a news sheet was long since done.... There were three jets to the chandelier. It wasn’t going to take long. Already she was affected by the fumes. The dog was sniffing suspiciously, whining protest.... “A life for a life,” she told him unfeelingly, thinking of Jack, the only one who ever had loved without harming her. But then--the Airedale, after all, had not asked Jack’s life any more than she had asked her mother’s.... She arose, tottered to the door, took him by the nape of the neck and thrust him into the pure air of the hall. Fortunately the babe was too young to realize or complain; would never know about life--never know. Dolores held the small form to her heart and shuddered anew over what life might have meted out to so tiny and helpless a creature.