A motor car dashed to the side of the street, and Jordan Morse helped Molly to the pavement. She stood for a moment looking at the gorge building contemplatively. "And she's been here all the while?" she remarked. "Yes, and a devil of a time I've had to keep her, too. If there'd been any one in the whole place, I believe she'd have made them hear; though since the boy came she's behaved better." Morse's face became positively brutal under recollections. "I've made her mind through him," he terminated. Jinnie had put Bobbie into bed and kissed him, and soon the child was breathing evenly. She knew Jordan Morse would come that night, so she closed the door between the two rooms and walked nervously up and down. Bobbie was always ill for hours after Morse had made his daily calls. She hoped the man would allow the child to remain in bed. When the key grated in the lock, she was standing in the middle of the room, her eyes fastened on the door. Every time he came, she had hopes that he might relent, if but a little. Morse entered, followed by Molly the Merry. Jinnie took a step forward when she saw the woman. Molly paused and inspected sharply the slim young figure, her mind comprehending all its loveliness. Then woman to woman they measured each other, as only women can. Jinnie advanced impulsively. "You've come to take me home!" she breathed. Molly shook her head. "I've come to talk to you," she retorted hoarsely. Never had she seen so beautiful a girl! The martyrdom Jinnie had endured had only enhanced her attractiveness. "Sit down," said Molly peevishly. Jinnie made a negative gesture. "I'm tired of sitting.... Oh, you will do something for me, something for poor little Bobbie?" Morse moved to the door between the two rooms, but Jinnie rushed in front of him. "He's asleep," she said beseechingly. "Don't wake him up! He's had a dreadful spell with his heart to-day." Morse turned inquiring eyes upon Molly. "You wanted to see him, didn't you?" he asked. Molly flung out a hand pettishly. "Let him sleep," she replied. "I don't want to be bored with fits and tears." Jinnie sank into a chair. "He ought to have a doctor," she sighed, as if she were speaking to herself. Then turning to Molly, she bent an entreating look upon her. "Please do something for him. Get a doctor, oh, do! He's so little and so sick." "I'm not a bit interested in him," replied Molly with a shrug. Jinnie's nerves had borne all they could. She trembled unceasingly. The girlish spirit had been broken by Morse's continual persecution. "He's so little," she petitioned again, "and he can't live long."