But spent as she was she was sufficiently alive for her curiosity to respond to a matter that again recurred to her. Clifford had known of her whereabouts, possibly of her purpose. Why had he not interfered?... Why?... A minute or two passed; then she became aware that some one had entered and had crossed to her side. She slowly opened her eyes, and wearily arose, and regarded Maisie Jones dully, indifferent to denunciation or threats or furious acts. “You telephoned you wished to see me,” she said. Maisie, very rigid and still gray of face, did not at once speak. “Well?” prompted Mary. “I came to tell you what I intend to do,” said the other, and stopped. “Go on. I know just about how you feel, and I guess I’d do about the same. I’m prepared, so don’t try to break it easy to me.” “Of course,” said the girl,--and there was a catch in her voice,--“of course you know that I love Jack.” “Yes, I know,” said Mary. “I love him so well,” continued the girl, “that I don’t want to do anything to hurt him.” She swallowed, then drove herself on, her blue eyes gazing straight into Mary’s dark ones. “I’m going to be honest. I’m not doing this because it’s easy; nor because I like you--I can’t do that yet. I’m doing it for--for Jack.” “Doing what?” breathed Mary, suddenly bewildered. “I’m doing it because I see you can be more to Jack than I can ever be,” the girl went on. “You’re the sort of woman that can make a man--you proved that when you made Jack steady down and go to work. I could never have done that for Jack.” Mary could only stare. “And I think it was big of you,” the voice went on, now a choked and awed voice, “to try to save Jack by sacrificing yourself--by being willing to acknowledge yourself his--his mistress, and accept that humiliation, in order to protect him. I could never have done that either.” Still Mary, sure manager of her destiny, could not speak--could only stare at the white face which had begun to work. “I shall return to Chicago to-night,” the girl went on. “In a week or two I shall make my aunt write Jack’s father, giving no reason, stating I no longer care for Jack and wish everything broken off. And I shall write, confirming this. That will put me out of the way--I’ll no longer be a source of danger to you and Jack. I guess that’s all. Good-bye.” She thrust the marriage certificate into Mary’s hands and turned and started rapidly out. Then she abruptly turned and came back; and she gripped Mary’s hands, and her blue eyes were flooding. “I can’t like you--yet. But I’m not going to let myself be mean about this,” she said huskily, in awe and humility. “I wish I were as fine as you are! You are wonderful--wonderful!” Suddenly she leaned forward and kissed Mary’s cheek; and then, this time, she was gone.