Shortly before nine o'clock Kate Kilgour came out and walked down the avenue on the way to her work. Dodd stared after her until she was out of sight. Shame and anger and desire mingled in the steady gaze he leveled on her; in her crisp freshness she represented both the longed-for and the unattainable. He was conscious of a new sentiment in regard to her. In the past his impatience had been tempered by the comforting knowledge that she had promised herself to him--that she was his to own, to possess after a bit of tantalizing procrastination. Now he was not at all sure of her. He had been just a bit patronizing in the past--his successes with women had inflated his conceit--he had exhibited a rather careless air of proprietorship--his manner had said to her and to others, “This is mine; look at it!” But now when he had watched her out of sight jealousy, anger, the sour conviction that he had forfeited her regard combined to make him desperate, and the excesses of the night before kindled a flame which heated all his evil passions. He threw away his cigarette, cursed roundly aloud, and hurried across the street into the Trelawny. When Mrs. Kilgour admitted him to her suite she clung to the door-casing, exhibiting much trepidation. He stepped in, closed the door, and put his back against it. “Have you got those hysterics out of you so that you can listen to me and then talk sense?” he demanded, coarsely. She went into her sitting-room and he followed, muttering: “No wonder you ran away from me last night--no wonder you didn't have the face to stay and take what you deserve. How in tophet I ever allowed you to plan and manage I can't understand.” “You asked me to,” she faltered. “I didn't ask you to rig up a dirty conspiracy to queer me.” “Richard, you are not yourself. You have been drinking!” She tried to exhibit protesting indignation and failed. “Come to me when you are yourself.” “There's no more of this to-morrow business goes with me, Mrs. Kilgour. I'll admit that you're Kate's mother. But just now you are something else. You have tried to do me, and nobody gets by with that stuff--man, woman, or child. We'll have our settlement here and now.” “I did the best I could,” she wailed. “Out of what damnation novel did you get that idea?” he raged. “It seemed to be a good plan, Richard. I swear by everything sacred I thought it would come out all right. Don't rave at me.” Her voice sunk to an appealing whisper. She picked up a book from her table. “If you will only listen--” “So you did get it out of a novel! My God! what have your fool ideas done to me?” “How do you dare to talk to Kate's mother like that?” “I am not talking to Kate's mother, I tell you! I'm talking to a woman who has put me into a hell on earth. I'm talking to you, Mrs. Kilgour, and you don't know the whole story yet.” “All my life it has been the same--only trouble and sorrow and to be misunderstood.” She began to sob.