It was a curious anachronism that she should be the mistress of the situation with such a man as James. Yet so far she was mistress of the situation. The question was, how long would she remain so? It is possible that she had no understanding of this at first. It is possible that she would have resented such a question, had it occurred to her when she first consented to break away from her old life. But now it was different. Now that she began to understand all she had flung away for this man, when the mother in her was at last fully aroused, and all her wits were driven headlong to discover a way by which to satisfy her all-consuming desire for her children, now the native cunning of the woman asserted itself. She saw in one revealing flash her position, she saw where lay her power at the moment, and she clung to it desperately, determined to play the man while she could to gain her ends. Thus it was she was nervous, apprehensive, every time she thought it likely that her lover was about to visit her. She dreaded what might transpire. She dreaded lest her power should be weakened before she had accomplished her end. It was difficult; it was nerve-racking. She must keep his love at fever-heat. It was her one chance. Again she started. It was the sound of a fresh footstep beyond the door. She glanced at the door with half-startled eyes and sat listening. Then her lips closed decidedly and a look of purpose crept into her eyes. A moment later she stood up. She was pale, but full of purpose. "Is that you, Jim?" she called. "Sure," came the ready response. The next instant the door was flung open and the man came in. His bronzed face was smiling, and the savage in him was hidden deep down out of sight. His handsome face was good to look upon, and as the woman's eyes surveyed his carefully clad slim figure she felt a thrill of triumph at the thought that he was hers at the raising of her finger. But she faced him without any responsive smile. She had summoned him with a very definite purpose in her mind, and no display of anything that could be interpreted into weakness must be made. "I want to talk to you," she said, pointing at the rocking-chair she had just vacated. James glanced at the chair. Then his eyes turned back to her with a question in them. Finally he shrugged his shoulders and flung himself into the seat, and stretched out his long legs luxuriously. Apparently Jessie had not noticed the shrug. It would have been better had she done so. She might then have understood more fully the man she was dealing with. However, she turned to the window and spoke with her back to him. "It's about--things," she said a little lamely. The man's smile was something ironical, as his eyes greedily devoured the beauty of her figure. "I'm glad," he said in a non-committing way. Then, as no reply was immediately forthcoming, he added, "Get going."