"Oh, yes, it was. That's why I showed it to you. Nance--Nance, don't you see that there's only one way out of this? There's only one woman in the world that would do this for me and that I could take it from." I clasped my hands helplessly. Oh, what could I do, Maggie, with him there and his arms ready for me! "I--I should think you'd be afraid," I whispered. I didn't dare look at him. He caught me to him then. "Afraid you wouldn't care for an old fellow like me?" he laughed. "Yes, that's the only fear I had. But I lost it, Nancy, Nancy Obermuller, when you flung that paper down before me. That's quite two hours ago--haven't I waited long enough?" * * * * * * * * * * * Oh, Mag--Mag, how can I tell him? Do you think he knows that I am going to be good--good! that I can be as good for a good man who loves me, as I was bad for a bad man I loved! XVII. PHILADELPHIA, January 27. Maggie, dear: I'm writing to you just before dinner while I wait for Fred. He's down at the box-office looking up advance sales. I tell you, Maggie Monahan, we're strictly in it--we Obermullers. That Broadway hit of mine has preceded me here, and we've got the town, I suspect, in advance. But I'm not writing to tell you this. I've got something more interesting to tell you, my dear old Cruelty chum. I want you to pretend to yourself that you see me, Mag, as I came out of the big Chestnut Street store this afternoon, my arms full of bundles. I must have on that long coat to my heels, of dark, warm red, silk-lined, with the long, incurving back sweep and high chinchilla collar, that Fred ordered made for me the very day we were married. I must be wearing that jolly little, red-cloth toque caught up on the side with some of the fur. Oh, yes, I knew I was more than a year behind the times when I got them, but a successful actress wears what she pleases, and the rest of the world wears what pleases her, too. Besides, fashions don't mean so much to you when your husband tells you how becoming--but this has nothing to do with the Bishop. Yes, the Bishop, Mag! I had just said, "Nance Olden--" To myself I still speak to me as Nancy Olden; it's good for me, Mag; keeps me humble and for ever grateful that I'm so happy. "Nance, you'll never be able to carry all these things and lift your buful train, too. And there's never a hansom round when it's snowing and--" And then I caught sight of the carriage. Yes, Maggie, the same fat, low, comfortable, elegant, sober carriage, wide and well-kept, with rubber-tired wheels. And the two heavy horses, fat and elegant and sober, too, and wide and well-kept. I knew whose it was the minute my eyes lighted on it, and I couldn't--I just couldn't resist it. The man on the box-still wide and well-kept--was wide-awake this time. I nodded to him as I slipped in and closed the door after me.