It was decided that Cis was to spend the winter with Miss Braithwaite. She was glad to accept the shelter of this house, yet more glad of the home open to her in the affections of this clever and spiritual gentlewoman than of the actual shelter of her dignified roof. For Cis, to her own bewilderment, found herself with little of her natural self-reliance. Beaten down by her recent struggle, though she had emerged victorious, she was scarred and torn by wounds still bleeding; she had accurately described herself to Miss Braithwaite as not knowing “how to walk.” Miss Braithwaite’s hand guiding her was strong and warm; she sustained her stumbling feet, poured the wine of her wholesome, humorous point of view into her wounds, and, at the same time, taught her to see the Perfect Beauty which by its perfection made all else worthless. Beyond her winter with Miss Braithwaite, Cis laid no plans; she was not sure whether or not she should continue in Mr. Lucas’ office; for that matter, she was not sure that she might do so. She had determined to confess to Mr. Lucas her fault in giving to Rodney Moore the hint he had asked for as to the final outcome of the franchise which was agitating the public mind. She would not stay on with him unless Mr. Lucas knew the worst of her; after he knew it the decision about her staying was in his hands. She had notified Mr. Lucas that she would leave him before Christmas to be married; he probably had supplied her place from that time on. Well, all this was as it might be. Dressing slowly, with long intervals of absent-minded gazing out of the window, Cis was sure only that she was going to the office, confess to Mr. Lucas, do the one thing left her honorably to do; after that--nothing mattered greatly, anyway. She did not know, nor much care what came after that. Cis would not acknowledge to herself that she feared, with positively curdling fear, meeting Rodney. She felt sure that he would try to waylay her when she resumed her daily trips to and from the office. It seemed to her that if she withstood him, his reproaches, but much more his appeals--and she was sure that she could withstand them--that afterward the feeble ray of courage within her would be extinguished; that she had borne to her capacity. Therefore it was an unspeakable relief to find that Miss Braithwaite was taking her down that morning in her coupé and planning to bring her home at night. “You’re not quite at par, my dear, though you intend to take dictation in regard to soaring investments,” she said. “I’m going in all sorts of directions this morning; the Lucas and Henderson offices one of them, so you’re to be deposited at their door with no exertion on your part.” “Oh, Miss Braithwaite, I’ll never be able to thank you!” cried Cis. “How you do see through people! But I don’t mind your knowing I’m a coward.”