Glory tried to comfort the poor broken creature. It was her duty to live. There was her child--had she never even seen it since she parted with it to Mrs. Jupe? It must be such a darling by this time, creeping about and talking a little, wherever it was. She ought to have the child to live with her, it would be such company. Polly kissed the pug to stop its whining, and said: “I don't want company. Life isn't the same thing to me now. He thinks because he is marrying that woman--What better is she than me, I would like to know? She's only snapping at him for what he is, and he is only taking her for what she's got, and I've a great mind to go to All Saints' and shame them. You wouldn't? Well, it's hard to hide one's feelings, but it would serve them right if--if I did it.” Polly had risen with a wild look, and was pressing the pug so hard that it was howling again. “Did what?” said Glory. “Nothing--that is to say----” “You mustn't dream of going to the church. The police----” “Oh, it isn't the police I'm afraid of,” said Polly, tossing her head. “What then?” “Never mind, my dear,” said Polly. On the way downstairs she reproached herself for not seeing what was coming. “But girls like us never do, now do we?” Glory coloured up to her hair, but made no protest. At the gate Polly wiped her eyes and drew down her veil, and said: “I'm sorry to say it to your face, my dear, but it's all been that Mr. Drake's doings, and a girl ought to know he'd do as much himself, and worse. But you're a great woman now, and in everybody's mouth, so you needn't care. Only----” Glory's face was scarlet and her under lip was bleeding. Yet she kissed the poor shallow thing at parting, because she was down, and did not understand, and lived in another world entirely. But going back to where her letter lay unfinished she thought: “Impossible! If this girl, living in an atmosphere so different, thinks that----” Then she sat at the table and forced herself to tell all. She had got through the red riot of her confession and was writing: “I don't know what he would think of it, but do you know I thought I saw his face on Wednesday night. It was in the dark, and I was in a cab driving away from the stage door. But so changed! oh, so changed! It must have been a dream, and it was the same as if his ghost had passed me.” Then she became aware of voices in dispute downstairs. First a man's voice, then the voices of two men--one of them Koenig's, the other with a haunting ring in it. She got up from the table and went to the door of her room, going on tip-toe, yet hardly knowing why. Koenig was saying: “No, sair, de lady does not lif here.” Then a deep, strong chest-voice answered, “Mr. Koenig, surely you remember me?” and Glory's heart seemed to beat like a watch. “No-o, sair. Are you--Oh, yes; what am I thinking of?--But de lady----” “Mr. Koenig,” Glory called, cried, gasped over the stair-rail, “ask the gentleman to come up, please.”