“I knew her by her picture, and, of course, I remembered my promise,” she began, “and I am sure she must have known me by some means or other, for she began eyeing me very curiously as soon as she was in the carriage. When we got to her house she pleaded helplessness,” she continued, “so I assisted her up the stairs in spite of my weak condition. Then the moment we were in her flat she burst out laughing. In a second she had locked the door and I was a prisoner. Of course I demanded to be let out, but she said she was Archie Ray’s wife and that I was his sweetheart and that she would smirch my reputation so that he would never again care for me. At that very minute who should come from another room but George Colebrooke and another man, both fairly reeking with liquor. ”I was horribly frightened, but I did not show it. I demanded to be let out. They only laughed at me. Then one of them put his arms around me and held me tightly while the woman mixed something in a glass and Colebrooke tried to make me swallow it.” “Oh, Marion, what did you do?” gasped Dollie, breathlessly. Marion smiled a little, now that the frightful thing was over. “Why, I bit his hand so badly that he dropped the glass,” was her answer, “and just at that second the door was burst in and the next thing I knew my friends were all there and that fellow Colebrook had vanished like magic.” CHAPTER VIII. A VISIT TO THE MORGUE. Two days later Marion was on her way back to Charity Hospital. She had been absent from duty for a week, but they had all heard of her injury and been most kind and sympathetic. This time, as she passed down Twenty-sixth street, Archie Ray was with her. He had been first in the offer of escort on this occasion. As they rode slowly along in Mr. Ray’s private carriage, Marion could see that his face had grown wonderfully sad. It was not like the face that she had recalled so vividly that night when Dr. Brookes had told her that he loved her. “You are grieving terribly, Mr. Ray,” she said to him, sweetly. “Do, please, try to look on the bright side a little. There is surely some way of ridding yourself of that woman.” “Do you believe in divorce?” asked Mr. Ray, suddenly. “I most certainly do,” was Marion’s prompt answer. “I believe in anything that will undo an error.” “You are more just and merciful than the world at large,” sighed the young man. “Most people would say, ‘If you married her, stick to her,’ and I would say so, too, if the difference was not quite so glaring.” Marion’s gray eyes grew tender as she glanced at him shyly. It seemed almost immodest to her that she should be advising him in this matter. “‘For better or worse’ does not mean that,” she said, very slowly. “When sin and crime come between husband and wife, it is time to separate to avoid contamination. No true man or woman will hold the promise, ‘until death,’ as indissoluble under such conditions. It is contrary to all the laws of human nature.”