“Lucky girl, I ain’t. My old man went off all of a sudden and left me in the lurch. If I’d known he was going I’d have fixed up some fun, but he didn’t tell me till after breakfast this morning. He’s just cussed sometimes, and never let’s on when he will be away. Well, I must trust to luck. Come some other night; and do come up to see me—he don’t mind feminine friends.” “I’d like to come.” “By the way, my dear, while I think of it, you’ll do well to look about you before he leaves you in the lurch. Funny thing, a year or two ago I used to see a good deal of Georgie. He don’t stick to anyone long. He soon got tired of me and I wasn’t too much cut up about it; he’s too finicky for my taste. I shall never forget his face when he found me a bit fuzzy-wuzzy with fizzy wine one night. I always called him old blue ribbon after that.” She laughed quietly, a deep, low, melodious note. Then she got up and walked about the room, looking at the pictures and ornaments. “I must say he’s fixed you up as if you’d caught his fancy strong. He only took a furnished place for me. But don’t put all your trust in any man’s pocket. Do you play?” she asked, sitting down to the piano. “Here goes for a hymn.” She played a catchy air and then sang the first verse and chorus of a drinking song that then held the ear of the town. “But there, I’ll be off, my dear. Georgie might catch me here and not approve. I shan’t come to see you again till you’ve been to see me. I’ve a sort of idea we shall be pals, I want one badly. I can put you up to a wrinkle or two; I’ve one or two to spare,” she said, looking at her reflection in the glass. “Oh, don’t worry to ring, I’ll let myself out. I’m never proud, except when it pays me to be so. Good night; be good and you won’t be happy.” There was a frank _bonhomie_ about the woman that attracted Marian. Their aims were different, perhaps, but their methods seemed much the same. Moreover, it seemed not unlikely that she might prove helpful, and that in some matters and on some occasions she might be a useful adviser. Further, there was a growing lawlessness in Marian’s blood that made her thirst sometimes to taste degradation, and this woman could lead her to it. It was now nearly six o’clock. She had promised Maddison to go round early to the studio. She wished now that she had been free to accept Mrs. Harding’s invitation, and made up her mind to do so some night soon, if it could be safely arranged. The housekeeper opened the door to her, and told her that a gentleman was waiting in the studio to see Mr. Maddison. Marian nodded and went in, expecting to find Mortimer or one of the other men who had been summoned. The big room was dimly lit. She shut the door behind her and went toward the fireplace, in a chair by which a man was sitting with his back toward her. He rose at the sound of her approach. It was her husband. “Marian!” She stood stock-still as he came quickly toward her, with his hands outstretched.