“A week, then, Margaret?--a--a month?” “I don't know--you must not stay.” He waited a little, then walked slowly to the hall. When he had his coat nearly on she came to the doorway. He waited again, hat in hand. “Good--good-night,” she said. “Is that------” She shook her head nervously, hurriedly, and he opened the door and went out. And when he had gone, when his last step had died away in the still air, she sank down on the stairs and sobbed, trembling in the power of this passion. What had she done! What had she done! Her thoughts ranged madly. She thought of the three years of divergence; of his habits, of hers; of all the things, great and trivial, that bore on the question; she tried to remember what had happened this night, and could not. She only knew that this strange power had mastered her; and she was afraid of it and of him. CHAPTER X--A Letter Mr. Bigelow sat in the chair: behind and around him were the speakers of the evening, grouped with the Committee of the Society of the Preservation of the Home; before him extended rows upon rows of citizens, all of them vigorously applauding the last speaker, all of them, without regard to private cellars, bent upon stamping out the saloon evil in their suburb. An usher mounted the platform and laid a folded slip of paper on the table. The Chairman unfolded it, read it with great composure, and inclined his head to signify an affirmative reply. This was the note: “Mr. G. Hyde Bigelow. “_Dear Sir:_ May I see you for a few moments after the meeting, on business of great importance. “Appleton Le Duc.” “Probably a reporter,” thought the Chairman. A draft of his opening speech lay in his inside pocket, and if this man was attached to a reputable paper he would be welcome to it. Mr. Bigelow made it an invariable rule to be courteous to newspaper men. At the close of the meeting, therefore, as he was donning his coat, the usher touched him on the arm. “This is the man who wished to see you, Mr. Bigelow.” The Chairman turned and beheld a tall, thin individual, with a long face, wearing somewhat conspicuous clothes. “How do you do,” he said, in a genial tone, extending his hand. The thin man took it and glanced sharply at Mr. Bigelow--a glance full of curious interest. A change had been taking place in Apples since we last saw him. Evidently the care of his wife and his wife's mother, and the prospect of a visit from the stork at once reducing the family income and materially increasing the outgo, had quieted the effervescence of his youth and set him thinking. “If you have no objection,” said Le Duc, “I will walk along with you.” “None whatever,” replied Mr. Bigelow. They walked together out of the building and followed that part of the crowd which had turned westward. “Well, sir,” observed, the Chairman, “what can I do for you?” Le Due answered in a low, even voice--a voice which, if it showed embarrassment and effort, showed also determination.