Her excuse for calling was that she had heard of an inquiry for short stories that he might be wise to follow up. He thanked her. Then, her business over, she seemed anxious to get away again. Oleron did not seek to detain her; even he saw through the pretext of the stories; and he accompanied her down the stairs. But Elsie Bengough had no luck whatever in that house. A second accident befell her. Half-way down the staircase there was the sharp sound of splintering wood, and she checked a loud cry. Oleron knew the woodwork to be old, but he himself had ascended and descended frequently enough without mishap.... Elsie had put her foot through one of the stairs. He sprang to her side in alarm. "Oh, I say! My poor girl!" She laughed hysterically. "It's my weight--I know I'm getting fat--" "Keep still--let me clear these splinters away," he muttered between his teeth. She continued to laugh and sob that it was her weight--she was getting fat-- He thrust downwards at the broken boards. The extrication was no easy matter, and her torn boot showed him how badly the foot and ankle within it must be abraded. "Good God--good God!" he muttered over and over again. "I shall be too heavy for anything soon," she sobbed and laughed. But she refused to reascend and to examine her hurt. "No, let me go quickly--let me go quickly," she repeated. "But it's a frightful gash!" "No--not so bad--let me get away quickly--I'm--I'm not wanted." At her words, that she was not wanted, his head dropped as if she had given him a buffet. "Elsie!" he choked, brokenly and shocked. But she too made a quick gesture, as if she put something violently aside. "Oh, Paul, not _that_--not _you_--of course I do mean that too in a sense--oh, you know what I mean!... But if the other can't be, spare me this now! I--I wouldn't have come, but--but--oh, I did, I _did_ try to keep away!" It was intolerable, heartbreaking; but what could he do--what could he say? He did not love her... "Let me go--I'm not wanted--let me take away what's left of me--" "Dear Elsie--you are very dear to me--" But again she made the gesture, as of putting something violently aside. "No, not that--not anything less--don't offer me anything less--leave me a little pride--" "Let me get my hat and coat--let me take you to a doctor," he muttered. But she refused. She refused even the support of his arm. She gave another unsteady laugh. "I'm sorry I broke your stairs, Paul.... You will go and see about the short stories, won't you?" He groaned. "Then if you won't see a doctor, will you go across the square and let Mrs. Barrett look at you? Look, there's Barrett passing now--" The long-nosed Barrett was looking curiously down the alley, but as Oleron was about to call him he made off without a word. Elsie seemed anxious for nothing so much as to be clear of the place, and finally promised to go straight to a doctor, but insisted on going alone. "Good-bye," she said.