“I’m going to the hotel. To-morrow I’ll attend to things, then--May I see you, Cis?” Rodney asked. “Yes. I’ll see you, Rodney--to say good-bye,” Cis answered. “I’ve no right to complain of that,” Rodney said humbly. “You’re a good girl, Cis. Whatever had been, you would have been too good for me. I’m thankful to you, Cis, for to-night.” “I’m thankful to God. Good night, Rodney,” said Cis. CHAPTER XXIII THE NEXT STEP During the remnant of that night left for sleep Cis slept deeply, too tired in mind and body to be wakeful. Her hours at the telephone exchange were elastic; she had undertaken the organization work only on a provisory basis, unwillingly, with the understanding that it might continue in her hands but a short time. She called up her own department in the morning and said that she would not go down until after lunch. She knew that Rodney would come to see her, probably in the forenoon. She knew that she must not refuse to see him. He had done right because she had asked it of him; the least that she could do was to repay that debt by bidding him good-bye, this time, she was sure, for all the rest of her life. She dreaded the interview, yet dreaded it less than she had expected to. Her experience with Rodney had been marked by extremes of emotion, even up to the previous night when, by a strange combination of circumstances, she and he had watched his wife die while they responded to the prayers for mercy upon her. Now Cis stood upon the plane of quiet. There remained but to drop the curtain upon this drama in her life, with a Godspeed for poor Rodney. Little Nan went about with an awe-struck, frightened face as the morning hours passed and Cis awaited Rodney. Nothing dramatic had ever come within the sweet little woman’s orbit; she did not know how to bear herself as a sort of fringe upon Cicely’s tragic cloak. “I’ll stay in the room, or keep away, just as you say, Cis--I mean when he comes,” Nan said. “I don’t know what is done in these cases.” Cis laughed; being Cis she would always laugh at anything funny. “I don’t believe they set down rules for ‘these cases’ in books of etiquette, Nan! But I wouldn’t like to give Rodney an audience; you and I are another matter,” she said. “Thank goodness!” cried Nan fervently. “I’d be so scared I’d probably crawl under the sofa!” “Which would do no one else any good, and muss up your hair dreadfully,” Cis suggested. When the bell rang it was nearly noon. Nan fled to open the door, and then to escape. Cis had been holding the sleepy baby, and when Rodney entered she had risen to meet him, little Matt held in her arm, which could not quite support his white kid-shod feet. His rosy face was pressed against Cis’s breast; his half-open eyes regarded the stranger with a languid interest that suggested a verdict on him, rendered after a nap had been completed.