And then it came to pass, the next day she met the other upon the streets, He smiled upon her through his ugly teeth, and in soothing words, offered greeting. She passed him by, but knew, without looking back, that he followed. She had completed her work for that day. Many copies of _his_ book she had placed in other hands, and that night many eyes would begin an acquaintance with those years in the west. And now, at her heels followed her vendetta. He would follow her to Mother Jane's? And then she trembled. She could never allow Mother Jane to even think she was any other but "her dear daughter." For it was such Mother Jane now called her. Anywhere now--but there. She increased her steps, made them faster in a direction that led to--she knew not where, nor cared; but anywhere but to Mother Jane's. Supper would be awaiting her there at six-thirty, as it had waited for her every day these past weeks; but Mother Jane would be disappointed this evening. Mildred Latham would not see Mother Jane at that hour today, and maybe she, Mother Jane, might never see "her daughter" again.... On she went. Before her, over a hill, came a car. She could not catch that one, but others would come that way soon. Maybe by the time she arrived beside the tracks, another might meet her. She hurried. She never looked back. She was too frightened. But intuition told her that he followed. She wished she knew how far he was in the rear. Maybe if the car came before he arrived, she could elude him. Oh, if it would! She was trotting now. She was so near the tracks at this time, that they glistened like steel rays in the distance. From a direction, which was not the way the other car had come, she heard another car. It was approaching, and now it flashed into sight. The sun had disappeared long ago, and the stars stood out like a million diamonds in the skies above. The evening air was chill, and she rushed--she was running now--past the houses. The car was almost at the crossing. Would she make it? She cried out and waved her hand frantically. It was going to pass her, although she had arrived at the crossing, and regarded it with eyes that were frantic--wild! "Please stop, Mr. Motorman!" she cried piteously. "Please stop--and save me." It tore by her, the front end. In the rear, she heard the crunch of feet upon the gravel street. She saw the side of the car. It dazzled her. She was lost. She could almost feel the presence of the other. One terrible moment she swayed, and the next, the rear end of the car was before her. Welcome did the inside seem. She _must_ catch that car, she felt--_or die_. A brass rail touched her hand. Like electricity, it closed over it. She was raised and then felt her body speeding through space. A cry from the inside and a "ting," then a shutting of brakes, and the car came to a stop.