"Thank you, dear Papa Farley." Winnie laid her hand gently on his big fist resting on the table. He withdrew his fingers, but as he did so gave her hand an apologetic pat. Her little fingers felt to her like iron under his big soft hand. She knew he was afraid when she touched him. Vulgar old man, she said to herself. She despised him so that she wanted to touch him again out of her superiority. "Dear Papa Farley!" There was helpless moisture in his eyes which he could not keep from her. "I have some work today. I'll forego dessert." Alice got up with sudden awkwardness and pushed her chair back. She smiled at them all, not seeing them. When she had gone they were pleased and yet ashamed of themselves, knowing why she went. "Did you get your deal through, Father?" Laurence asked impatiently after a moment. They were all relieved of the silence too heavy with Alice. * * * * * The window was open and the thick dark night, coming warm and moist into the bedroom, made Alice feel as though some one breathed into her face, close against her, stifling her. The yellow gas flame rushed up from the jet with a stealthy noise. The street outside was still. Alice sat down before her typewriter and stared at it. Suddenly her full breasts heaved. "Oh, my God!" She buried her face. Her blouse pulled tight across her shoulders as she stretched her arms in front of her. Horace Ridge was going to Europe to remain two years. He might get well. He might die. His eyes. She felt herself lost in the darkness of his eyes. Then something broke in her. I'll tell him. I'll go with him. She dared not see herself in the glass opposite. Once she had abandoned herself to her desire to be beautiful. She remembered, with a horrible sense of humiliation, the hours spent behind locked doors when she had tried to make herself into something men would like. One day she had done her hair a new way, and, going into the living-room, had caught Laurence's ridiculing eyes upon her. That was before he married Winnie. Alice realized that something had gone wild in her. She had picked a paper knife from a table and hurled it at him and it had cut his hand. His face had turned scarlet, then white, then scarlet again. He had gone out as if he were glad, without speaking to her. After that she fixed her hair the old way and avoided the mirror. She did not want to realize what she was. Nothing existed but work. When she met a pretty woman in the streets Alice had a sense of outrage. A self-righteous flame burnt in her. Then she tried to be patient and it grew cool. She wore heavy careless clothing. She was generous to Winnie. Most of all it relieved Alice to buy presents for the children. It was the evening before when she came home from work that Bobby met her in the hall. Then there was jam on his unperturbed face. "You donna bring me sumpin'," he reminded her.