"I must pack; I must make ready!" she said to herself. But she did not rise. No longer framing her thoughts, lost in indefiniteness, prey to a heavy mental stupor, her hands lay weakly in her lap, her head thrown back, staring. Later her fingers stopped upon the sharp facets of the ring which had been pledged as a troth. Garry! What should she say to him? How make him understand? She rose heavily, and going to the writing-desk, brought back pad and pencil. Slowly, seeing dimly the sheet on her lap, she began: "_Garry dear_: I am going away--" She stopped. She could not add another word. What could be added? The pencil slipped from her fingers, the pad slid finally to the floor. She returned again into the stupor, incapable of thought or action, waiting, seeing only the jerky advance of a minute-hand around the yellow surface, until an hour had gone by without a single preparation. All at once a tear gathered in her eye and went slowly down her cheek--a tear of profound fatigue, of listlessness, rather than the touch of an aching thought. This tear, hot and unbidden, seemed to dissipate, all at once, the frigidity of her mind. She sat up hastily, with a frightened glance at the clock. It was already past six. "What am I doing?" she thought, dismayed. "He's coming! I must hurry!" She went to the closet and brought out a dress-suit-case, laid it open across a table and gazed helplessly about her. What next? Ten minutes later, Snyder, coming hastily in, found her camped on the floor, sorting an enormous pile of stockings, which she rolled and unrolled without decision. Nothing had yet been placed in the open suit-case, though every drawer was ajar and every trunk-lid up. "Dodo!" cried Snyder, with a rapid survey. "In the name of heaven, what are you up to?" Snyder's arrival was like a ray of hope to Doré. She rose quickly, her strength of mind suddenly restored--at last some one to whom she could talk, to whom she could tell of the great romance that was sweeping her on! "Snyder, I'm leaving now, at seven o'clock," she said firmly. "Leaving, honey? For how long?" "I guess forever, Snyder!" she answered, with a little shortness of breath. Snyder, with a quick motion flung off her rain-coat, rolling it in a ball and hurling it through the open door into her room. Then she went rapidly to Dodo, grasping her arms, peering into her face, crying: "Dodo! That Massingale?" She nodded, answering aggressively: "I adore him!" The woman recoiled, wringing her hands, overcome with grief, crying: "Oh, petty, petty! I knew it would come! O God of mercy!" "But, Snyder, I am happy!" Doré said. Yet the words seemed to her heavy, there in the shadowy room, watching, amazed, the agony of affection and terror that shook the woman. "Happy!" cried Snyder, with a mocking laugh. "God! Do you know what you are doing?"