"I was out of my head ... I should have known my limitations ... I didn't ..." She sat down, her lap filled, looking into the stormy past through this strange rent in the fabric of the actual. A knock sounded from the hall and she sprang up hastily, gazing in sudden fear at the round clock-face of the Metropolitan Tower. The successor to Josephus was at the door, hesitating at her appearance. "Yes, it is for me," she said hastily, glancing at the card. "It's all right. Send him up." She returned in a panic, closing the trunk, pushing in stubborn bureau drawers. Now that he had actually come, as she had written him, as she had not believed he would come, she felt cold and hot all at once with sudden irregular knockings of her heart within. What would be the end of it all? What power had he still over her? All at once she perceived the packet of letters on the bed where she had thrown them--his letters--and rushing over caught them up and flung them in the hastily opened trunk. "Come--" She turned instantly intent--rigid. But her ear had deceived her, there had been no knock. She caught her breath twice, dug her nails into the palms of her hands and walked steadily away. When a moment later there came a knock, she was able to say calmly: "Yes, come." The door opened with a certain solemnity and Judge Massingale came in. She acknowledged his coming with a half-forward gesture of her hand, her glance on the floor, afraid of the first recognition, saying rapidly: "It was good of you to come, very good. Thank you." He stood, without movement to lay aside his hat and stick, self-possessed and cynically amused. "I have come, my dear lady," he said evenly. "Well, because--I was curious." "I had to see you," she said in a low rapid voice, "I could not bear--I had to see you--I wanted you to understand." "Understand? What a curious word. You'll be saying forgive next." "Ah, yes, forgive me," she cried impulsively, looking at him for the first time. "Forgive me for all the harm I've done to you!" "And I came to congratulate you." He laid his hat and cane mathematically on a table and came forward with the same controlled smile. "Oh, let me explain," she said, revolting at his manner. "Explain? There is nothing to explain, everything is quite clear--to me at least," he said, and against his intention a note of harshness came into his voice. "You played your game perfectly. You used me for just what you wanted: to bring another man to the point. Oh, don't apologize. It's done a great deal nowadays in the best of families. You have made a splendid marriage, Mrs. Lindaberry. I _do_ congratulate you." "You don't believe that," she said angrily. "Pardon me, I do. I'm not reproaching you. I warned myself again and again. I said once if I ever was fool enough to believe you I would be lost. Well, I believed you. I blame only myself. You are a very clever woman, Mrs. Lindaberry."