"She's going to wreck his life!" she said under her breath. "I know it--I know it! She's killing him--killing his soul! If she does that, I'll----" The thought that came into her mind frightened her, for she had not known that there was so much of primitive passion in herself. The moment the unhappy dinner came to an end, Helen Gilmore murmured an almost incoherent something about a headache and fled upstairs to her room. The other Mrs. Gilmore, too, faded out of sight, still wondering what it might be all about. Joan was inclined to remain, but Kirklan showed very plainly that she wasn't wanted. "Run along, Joan, if you don't mind," he said in a jerky, strained voice. "Sarbella and I"--it was to be noted that he had dropped the more cordial and customary name of Victor--"are going to--to talk things over. Come out to the studio with me, Sarbella; the manuscript of the book is out there." Victor Sarbella was not deceived into any notion that Gilmore had in mind a discussion of the new novel, and, while he shrank from what he felt sure was going to be a cross-examination, he did not see how he could very well refuse. "All right," he agreed with a nod, reaching for his cigarette case. Silently the two men left the house and cut across the lawn through the gathering dusk toward the studio. No word was spoken as they entered the building and mounted the stairs to the writer's workroom above. Kirklan Gilmore switched on the lights, and the two faced each other at the desk strewn with pages of the manuscript. Sarbella remained calm, but the other let himself go, and his whole body shook like a man in the grip of a chill. "Well, let's have it--the truth!" he rasped, almost a sobbing catch in his voice. Victor Sarbella finished off his cigarette with a long puff that slid the burning edge of the tobacco tube close to his lips; at the same time he reached for a fresh smoke, tapped it on the back of his hand, and then lighted it with the stub of the old. A thin trickle of smoke swam slowly through his parted lips. "Just what do you mean?" he parried. "Don't you fence with me, Sarbella!" Gilmore shouted hoarsely. "I've got to the breaking point. My nerves are stretched tight as piano wires; if something snaps----" "That's the trouble, Kirklan," Sarbella broke in soothingly. "You're nervous and upset over something; that's the size of it. You were upset when I first saw you, and I----" "That's got nothing to do with it, Sarbella. You know very well what I mean. I saw Helen--my wife--saw her face when I introduced you two on the porch. Introduced you!" His voice rose shrilly. "I guess you know her better than I do; I saw----" "Kirklan," again interrupted Sarbella, "that is where you are absolutely wrong. I give you my solemn word of honor, my oath as a gentleman, that until this evening I never saw Mees Gilmore."