The ugly temper she had kept under control broke loose. She lifted her hand and struck him violently on the mouth. Her face too was convulsed, but with another passion. She felt as if the past month had been annihilated. “Will you let me go?” she gasped. “Oh, how I hate you!” Then as he kissed her again, “I could kill you! I could kill you!” She flung herself free, and shaking with passion faced the scandalised family. “You had better keep him out of the way,” she said. “Do you know that once I nearly killed my own mother?” VI Patience slept little that night. Her head ached violently. When she presented herself at the office Steele sent her to report a morning lecture. It was dull, and she fell asleep. When she returned to the office Steele happened to be alone. “I have no report,” she said. “I fell asleep. That is all I have to say.” For a few seconds he stared at her, then turned on his heel. In a moment he came back. “The next time you do that,” he said, “hunt up the reporter of some other newspaper and get points from him. First-class reporters always stand in together. Here’s a good story badly written that has come up from Honduras. Take it home and revamp it, and let me have it to-morrow.” “You are awfully good. I thought you would tell me to go, and I certainly deserve to.” “You certainly do, but we won’t discuss the matter further.” That was an unhappy week for Patience, and she lost faith in her star. A great foreign actress, whom she was sent to interview, haughtily refused to be seen, and the next morning capriciously sent for a reporter of the “Eye,” the hated rival of the “Day.” She was put on the trail of a fashionable scandal and failed to gather any facts. She was sent to interview a strange old woman, supposed to have a history, who lived on a canal boat, and became so interested in the creature that she forgot all about the “Day,” and did not appear at Mr. Steele’s desk for three days. When she did he looked sternly at her guilty face, although the corners of his mouth twitched. “I’m delighted to see you have not forsaken us,” he said sarcastically. “May I ask if the canal boat woman quite slipped your memory?” “N-o-o. I have been there ever since.” “Indeed?” His ears visibly twitched. “That alters the case. Did you get the story out of her?” Patience looked at him steadily for a moment, then dropped her eyes. “There is nothing to tell,” she answered. Steele sprang to his feet. “Come out here,” he said. He led her into a corner of the composing-room, and they sat down on a bench. “Now tell me,” he said peremptorily. “What have you heard? You have news in your eye. I see it.” “I have nothing to tell.” “Suppose you tell the truth. You have the story, and you won’t give it up. Why not?”