"I think you had better go now," she requested. "I can't stand this much longer; and besides, to keep it up would do no good that I can see. To-morrow is Saturday, and if you still feel there is anything you must say to me I shall be at home all day. But to-night--please go now." As in a dream, Armstrong arose, obeying her command--as he always obeyed in small things. "Yes, I suppose you're right," he echoed dully. "I realize I'm only making matters worse by staying, only getting us farther apart." He buttoned his coat to the chin and drew on his gloves lingeringly. "If I were to call to-morrow, though, isn't there a chance that you would be different? Can't I have even--hope?" The girl said nothing, did not appear to hear. Subconsciously she was counting the seconds, almost with prayer; counting until she should be alone. But still Armstrong dallied, killing those same seconds wilfully. "Aren't you going to offer me even hope, Elice?" he repeated. "I'll be in--hell when I go, without even hope." It was the final straw, that prophetic suggestion, the snapping straw. With one gesture of hopeless, impotent misery, of infinite appeal as well, the girl threw out her hand. "Go," she pleaded brokenly, "go quickly. There's a limit to everything and with me that limit is reached." She motioned again, and Steve went out into the night. CHAPTER IX ADMONITION There was a light in the den as Darley Roberts, having let himself in with his latch-key, started up the stairs toward his own rooms, and, although he moved softly, Harry Randall himself faced the newcomer on the landing, his hand extended. "I was waiting for you," he announced without preface. "I felt sure you'd be in to-night sometime." He was smiling a welcome, one unmistakably genuine. "Delayed, were you?" "Yes. A wreck out about seventy miles. I just got in on the relief," laconically. The accompanying grip, however, was not curt. "You'll read about it in the morning. Looks comfortable in there," with a nod toward the inviting den. "Early enough yet for a chat, is it?" "I was hoping so. That's why I sat up." "Thanks. I'll be with you in a minute." Shortly, in lounging-robe and slippers this time, he came tiptoeing down the hall past the other sleeping-rooms; a big alert shape that seemed mountainous beside the lesser Randall idly awaiting his return. "Very well," he introduced characteristically as he dropped into a convenient seat, "let's hear all about it--everything. I'm listening." Randall caught the contagion of brevity, as he always did when in the other's presence. "What would you like to hear about first?" he returned smilingly. "Have you any choice?" "Yourself," with a steady look. "Everything's right, I see." "Yes, everything's right," echoed Randall, "so much so that I'm simply foolishly happy." He paused meaningly. "And now, since--" Roberts gestured--merely gestured. "Aren't you going to permit me even to thank you?" countered Randall.