Turning quickly she walked out of the place. Behind her Charlie laughed. "A wild little thing." Mary with her body pressed closely against him combated an influence that seemed at work upon Charlie. "She's changed a great deal, poor girl," said Mary. "What is she?" "An artist. She says wonderful things sometimes. Awfully strong things and just hates people." "A nut," agreed Charlie. "Oh, she's sort of strange. Puts on a lot, of course." Mary felt uncomfortable. Rachel had managed to leave behind a feeling of the unimportance of everybody but Rachel. She was leaning against Charlie for vindication. His body, trembling at the contact, provided it; but his words annoyed her. "Well, she's different from the gang in here--I'll say that for her." "Oh, let's forget her," Mary whispered. "I don't like this place. Really, I ..." She hesitated and thought, "Rachel thinks she's mysterious and enigmatic and everything, but she's an awful fool. She can't put it over on me." Yet she sat, despite the vindication of Charlie's amorous embarrassment, and wondered, parrot fashion, "Ah, what is life?" Outside Rachel was walking again. The memory of her meeting with Mary, of Brander's ugly appealing face that whispered frankly of his sex, was dead in her. Little toy people playing at games. Erik hated them. Erik said ... well, it was something too indecent to repeat. She couldn't get used to Erik's indecent comparisons. But they were like that--the toy people in the little toy village. She didn't hate them the way Erik did. Some of them were just playing. But there were others. Why think of them? Walk, walk. Just be. A perfect circle.... "There's nothing to do. I don't want anything. To-night he'll talk to me. And I'll make real answers." Why did she want to be kissed? Kisses were for people like Mary. "Oh, he'll kiss me and I'll become alive." It was late afternoon. Still, long hours before eight o'clock. It pleased Erik when she told him how empty the day had been. But she mustn't harp too much on that. It would sound as if she were making demands on him. No demands. He was free. They weren't married. A crowd was solidifying in 10th Street. She walked slowly, watching the people gathering at the corner. The office of _The Cry_ was there. She remembered this and hurried forward. Something was happening. An excitement was jerking people out of their silences. Blank, silent faces around her suddenly opened and dropped masks. Bodies drifting carelessly up and down the street broke into runnings. Around the corner people were shouting, pressed into a ball of wild faces and waving arms. It was in front of the office of _The Cry_ that something was happening. "Kill the dirty rascal! Make the son-of-a----kiss the flag!" Words screeched out of a bay of sound. "Kill him! Kill the son-of-a---- String him up!"