To escape it she had gone to Tuxedo for a week; now, fear and foreboding had brought her back--fear intensified at the very threshold of the city when Duane seemed to look straight at her and pass her by without recognition. Men don't do that, but she was too inexperienced to know it; and she hastened on with a heavy heart, found a taxi-cab to take her to the only home she had ever known, descended, and rang for admittance. In these miserable days she had come to look for hidden meaning even in the expressionless faces of her trained servants, and now she misconstrued the respectful smile of welcome, brushed hastily past the maid who admitted her, and ran upstairs. Except for the servants she was alone. She rang for information concerning her brother; nobody had any. He had not been home in a week. Her toilet, after the journey, took her two hours or more to accomplish; it was dark at five o'clock and snowing heavily when tea was served. She tasted it, then, unable to subdue her restlessness, went to the telephone; and after a long delay, heard the voice she tremblingly expected: "Is that you, Jack?" she asked. "Yes." "H-how are you?" "Not very well." "Have you heard anything new about certain proceedings?" she inquired tremulously. "Yes; she's begun them." "On--on w-what grounds?" "Not on any grounds to scare you. It will be a Western matter." Her frightened sigh of relief turned her voice to a whisper: "Has Stuyve--has a certain relative--annoyed you since I've been away?" "Yes, over the telephone, drunk, as usual." "Did he make--make any more threats, Jack?" "The usual string. Where is he?" "I don't know," she said; "he hasn't been home in a week, they tell me. Jack, do you think it safe for you to drop in here for a few moments before dinner?" "Just as you say. If he comes in, there may be trouble. Which isn't a good idea, on your account." No woman in such circumstances is moved very much by an appeal to her caution. "But I want to see you, Jack," she said miserably. "That seems to be the only instinct that governs you," he retorted, slightly impatient. "Can't you ever learn the elements of prudence? It seems to me about time that you substituted common sense for immature impulse in dealing with present problems." His voice was cold, emotionless, unpleasant. She stood with the receiver at her ears, flushing to the tips of them under his rebuke. She always did; she had known many, recently, but the quick pang of pain was never any less keen. On the contrary. "Don't you want to see me? I have been away for ten days." "Yes, I want to see you, of course, but I'm not anxious to spring a mine under myself--under us both by going into your house at this time." "My brother has not been here in a week." "Does that accidental fact bar his possible appearance ten minutes from now?"