"Don't! Don't touch me! Don't speak to me!" She got up and threw back her head, then looked at the clock. "What time is it?" She walked over to the bell and pressed it. "You've often said deep down in every woman was something dangerous. All of us have something we'd die for quickly. And I--all I have--is just myself." "What are you going to do?" Miss Gibbie sat down limply in the chair from which Mary had just risen. "Why did you ring? You aren't going to take seriously the thing I have told you? The man is being looked after. John is attending to him to-night." "John!" The word came involuntarily, and her head was turned quickly lest its spasm of pain be seen. "What has John to do with it?" "A very good deal." Miss Gibbie's breath was coming back. The shock and fury in Mary's face had frightened her as not in years had she been frightened. "John has heard these rumors and will settle their source. What do you want, Celia?" "You rang, did you not?" Celia, hands on the curtains, waited. "I rang. I want my coat and hat." Mary Cary turned to her. "I want you, too, for a little while, Celia. Get ready, please, to go out with me." She went over to the desk and took from one of its many pigeon-holes paper and pencil. "I am going to Miss Honoria Brockenborough's." "What are you going there for?" Miss Gibbie's voice made pretence of petulance. "What do you want to see her for?" "Didn't you tell me when people said things about you that were not true you made them sign a paper to that effect? Were Miss Honoria Brockenborough dying she'd have to sign that paper to-night. She has lied, or the man of whom she spoke has lied, and either the one or the other or both shall say so. Don't you see"--for the first time her voice broke, and again she put her hand to her throat--"don't you see she is taking from me all--everything I have. When I was here, a child, a bit of sea-weed, I knew my life depended--on just myself. All the eyes of all the world did not matter so much as my own. You do not know what it means to be alone in life!" She stopped as if something had suddenly given way, and on her knees her face was hidden in Miss Gibbie's lap. Only the crackling of the coal in the grate broke the stillness of the room. Presently Miss Gibbie spoke, lifted the white, drawn face to hers.