Hildegarde did not sleep until her room was light with day; she was exhausted in body, her soul was tried to the limit of its endurance. Mechanically she drew down her shades and crept into bed. It was afternoon when she awakened and dressed herself. She felt strangely calm, almost detached from herself and the events which thickened about her. The agony of the night was gone, replaced by a coldness, a numbness, as if that part of her which suffered had been deadened by a powerful drug. She could even reason with herself, and, reasoning, she reached a determination. She could endure no more--she would endure no more. Cantor.... She was done with Cantor. Never again would she accept him as companion. She would not need what he had been able to afford--an easy access to the world outside her father's house. She was done with her father's house. She was done with Detroit, done with every living soul who knew her. Something assured her that she could escape, and when she had gained her freedom it would be to disappear--to disappear forever. She did not know where she would go, what she would do, but she would go, and, going, she would vanish utterly. Hildegarde von Essen would be abolished and some place another girl would come to life. She even selected a name for that other girl. It was not a German name.... Some one rapped on her door loudly. It was an overbearing, domineering rap, recognized by her as her father's. It was like him, eloquent of his personality. "Come out!" he called, roughly. "What do you want?" she asked, at once on the defensive, quickened to a defensive strength. She was not afraid of him, not afraid of anything. The time for fear had passed. "Come out!" he repeated. She unlocked her door and stepped into the hall, facing von Essen. His heavy face was set; his mouth, more brutal than Bismarck's mouth, was implacable. "Go down-stairs," he said. "What for?" "Because I tell you to," he said. "Because I'm through shilly-shallying with you. Cantor is there.... You've put him off for months. He wants to marry you, and I want to be rid of you. You are going down to tell him you will marry him." She did not reply. "Do you hear?" he said, roughly. "Yes," she said, quietly. "Does he want to _marry_ me?" Von Essen raised his fist above her. "Don't fool with me," he said. "You know he wants to marry you." "The last time he mentioned it," she said, with a quiet that should have warned him of some alarming change in her, "he wanted me--without marriage." Von Essen growled incoherently. "Marriage or no marriage, it's nothing to me.... I've given you to him. I'm through with you. If he'll marry you, so much the better for you." "This isn't Belgium," she said. He twisted her about roughly so that she faced the stairs, then he pushed her forward. "Go down!" he said.