On wisely reckless second thought, she ran into a florist’s and bought an armful of roses. These she thrust up into the taxi-seat beside him, explaining that he was to scatter them about their rooms, so that he could be in the midst of them when she came. Then she stood at the curb, watching him drive off, demanding of herself whether, after all, some Indian Summer of happiness were not due to her, wondering whether she were still asking too much of life. Then she climbed the stairs to the little top-floor apartment, saying to herself, compensatingly, that it would be for the last time. She felt glad to think that she had taken from Durkin’s hands the burden of packing and shutting up the desolate and dark-memoried little place. Yet it had taken her longer than she imagined, and she was still stooping, with oddly mixed emotions, over the crumpled nurse’s dress and the little hypodermic that she carried away from the Van Schaick house, when she heard a hurried footfall on the stairs and the click of a pass-key in the lock. She realized, with a start, that it was Durkin come back for her, even after she had begged him not to. She ran over toward the door, and then, either petulantly or for some stronger intuitive reason—she could never decide which—stopped short, and waited. The door opened slowly. As it swung back she saw standing before her the huge figure of MacNutt. “_You!_” she gasped, with staring eyes. “Sure it’s me!” he answered curtly, as he closed the door and locked it behind him. “But, how dare you?” and she gasped once more. “What right have you to break in here?” She was trembling from head to foot now, recoiling, step by step, as she saw some grim purpose written on the familiar blocked squareness of his flaccid jaw and the old glint of anger in the deep-set, predatory eyes. “Oh, I didn’t need to break in, my lady! I’ve been here before, more than once. So don’t start doin’ the heavy emotional and makin’ scenes!” “But—but Durkin _will_ kill you this time, when he sees you!” she cried. MacNutt tapped his pocket confidently. “He’ll never catch me that way twice, I guess!” “How dare you come here?” she still gasped, bewildered. “Oh, I dare go anywhere, after you, Frank! And I may as well tell you, that’s what I came for!” She still shivered from head to foot. It was not that she was afraid of him. It was only that, in this new beginning of life, she was afraid of some unforeseen disaster. And she knew that she would kill herself, gladly, rather than go with him.