I did not laugh at his last words. His mention of Dibdin suddenly brought to my mind what was like a flash of light. To be rid of him was my paramount desire. Dibdin—Dibdin’s check—_to be used for the children_! It lay yellowing in my pocketbook. Now if ever was the time. Never, I felt certain after Pendleton’s confession, could I benefit the children more with a thousand dollars! "Yes!" I cried explosively. "I understand you, Pendleton. I’ll give you a thousand dollars. You don’t belong here—it was a mistake bringing you—go where you came from—where you’ll be at home." It was only afterwards I recalled that he had mentioned blackmail. "You’ll give it to me?" he exclaimed avidly, thrusting out his hand. "Yes—I will!" "Now?" "To-morrow morning." His face fell. "Some trick? You’ll go back on it." I ignored him. "But you can’t sleep here," I went on. "I’ll meet you in town anywhere you say. No, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll come with you to town now, to-night. To-morrow morning we’ll settle it." To be rid of him—to get him out from under this roof—seemed suddenly a great, a priceless boon. "God! I could kiss you!" he cried in derisive exultation. "Go pack your things," I said, through the tumult in my brain. "I’ll call a cab—or better still, you telephone Hickson, Griselda. I’ll go and help him." Pendleton nodded with grim insolence and shouldered out of the door. "A better night’s work ye’ve never done in your life," flashed Griselda, with a look of approbation that pleased me as much as any praise I have ever received; and she shuffled out to the telephone. For one moment of silence I stood alone in the middle of my study, throbbing with a jumble of half-formed thoughts and racing flashes of ideas upon none of which my mind was able to fasten. But this single fact finally emerged from the welter: It was I, by my own act, who was now sending the father of Laura’s children into exile. But on the heels of that came the certain conviction that never had any judge since justice was invented made a more accurate decision. And it seemed to me then as though something new and massive and stubborn and hard was born in my bosom that solidified and toughened me: That, come sorrow or joy, I should be able to present a surer front to their encounter, a greater certitude in meeting them. I felt myself at last an active, fashioned and tempered part of the machinery of life, and all my past seemed as chaff that had been blown by the winds of circumstance. Alicia! My heart cried out for her! But I could not go to her now. I must clean my house for her and when next I saw her it should be in a cleared and wholesome atmosphere that no longer reeked of Pendleton. I made my way to his room and opened the door. "Have you packing space enough?" I asked him coldly. "I could use another suit case," he muttered.