They went home together almost in silence. Ruth did not know what occupied Terry’s thoughts, but she herself was wondering if she could find the courage to ask Terry to save Gloria from George and Aglipogue, by marrying her himself. It was all very well to be unselfish in love, but for some weeks at least it seemed to her that Terry had given up all effort to interest Gloria. If he would only make an effort he might save Gloria from the Prince and win happiness for himself, but despite her generous resolves, she could not bring herself to advise him to “speak for himself.” They could hear Prince Aglipogue singing as she unlocked the door of the house on Gramercy Square. The sound of his voice and the piano covered the opening and closing of the door, so that they stood looking in on Gloria and her guest without themselves being observed. The song was just ending—Prince Aglipogue at the piano, her eyes wide and if she heard the music she did not see the singer. There was a trance-like expression in her eyes and when, the song ending, they saw Aglipogue draw her to the seat beside him and lift his face to kiss her, with one movement Terry and Ruth drew back toward the outer door. “Guess I’d better go,” whispered Terry. “Yes; you saw George was right. They didn’t see us—don’t forget my revolver.” She closed the door after Terry, this time with a loud bang that could not fail to be heard and as she turned back she saw, far down the hall, two red eyes gleaming at her, like the eyes of a cat. She wondered if George had been watching too, and if his quick ears caught her whispered words to Terry. Gloria called her name before she entered the room, almost like old times, but Prince Aglipogue did not seem to be particularly pleased to see her. “You were singing,” she said to him. “Please don’t stop because I’ve come. I love to hear you.” “Thank you, but it is late for more music; and it is late, too, for little girls who study, to be up even for the sake of music.” Even a week ago he would not have dared speak to her like that. He sat staring at her now, out of his insolent, oily black eyes, as if she were really a troublesome child. For a moment anger choked her voice and she half expected Gloria to speak for her, but Gloria was still looking at Aglipogue, the strange trance-like expression in her eyes, and Ruth became calm. If Prince Aglipogue chose to be rude she could be impervious to rudeness. “I’m not trying to make the morning classes any more, Prince Aglipogue, so I can stay up as long as I like, but perhaps you’re tired of singing.”