So thought the vampires described in children's mythologies as having beautiful hair and murderous claws. "I will tear to shreds the flesh of him whom I possess." Oh, what a night! She crouched in bed with her knees drawn up and her face buried in her lap, sobbing, sobbing. At last, toward morning, she found what she had been seeking. Out of tears, out of bitterness, out of shuddering and prayer arose the alleviating resolve: that very afternoon when he came she would tell him--but no!--why wait until the afternoon? Why wait until he entered the rooms where the force of familiarity, his loving resistance might shiver the great sacrificial work to bits? It must be in some other place where she seemed more of a stranger to him, which she could leave the instant she felt his proximity caused her to waver. She was not allowed to visit him in his office without special permission. But at the midday recess, when it was quieter than at other times, he retired to his back room for his actual work of the day, and she might be sure of entering unseen and speaking to him without fear of interruption. So sacred a resolve sanctioned everything. She used the morning for assorting his letters and tying them together. She wanted to hand them to him along with his betrothed's picture when she bade him farewell. He need never fear she might cause him trouble in the future. Then she dressed--more carefully than usual--washed herself with milk of lilacs to remove the traces of tears, waved her hair, and drew it into a knot at the nape of her neck, as she had seen on statues of Greek women. She was their equal--like them, serenely raised above sorrow and joy. She drove to the office. The clock struck quarter past one when she stood in front of the columned gateway. Nobody was to be seen in the yard except the porter, who lifted his cap with a confidential smile. She was still their employer's mistress. If only she had taken the precaution to send in her card. The front office door was open as usual when he worked in the back room, and she well knew the secret spring of the gate in the railing. She prudently knocked at the inner door, which as a rule stood slightly ajar, but which to-day was closed. "Come in," he said. She stepped in and faced--his mother. Lilly had never seen her, and she had imagined her quite, quite different, a tall, thin, imposing old lady. Next to Richard's desk sat a medium-sized, rotund woman with a black lace cap on her grizzled hair. She looked at Lilly with an expression of surprise and displeasure in her cold, grey eyes. Lilly instantly knew it was she. Richard, who had been leaning back comfortably in his revolving chair, jumped to his feet. Rigid with fright, Lilly stared at the old lady, who now rose from her seat also, while an evil gleam of anger and contempt lighted up those cold eyes.