shivering, indrawing breath she drew back and leaned against the
door-frame.

"I must go. I--I can't come in there. I'm better now. I must go."

"You can't go." Selwyn's voice was decisive. "You'll be all right
presently, but you'll have to--to rest, first." Firmly she was led
to the couch and pushed upon it. Taking the medicine from my hands,
he held it to her lips. "Take this."

Hesitating, partly defiant, partly afraid, the girl raised her eyes
to his. Then, with hand that shook badly, she took the glass and
drank part of its contents, the rest was spilled in her lap.

"If it were prussic acid I'd be glad to drink it." The voice was
bitter, and again the eyes, pale yet burning, were raised to his, and
in them was what seemed frightened but guarded recognition. Quickly
she dropped them and glanced around the room, as though looking for
escape, and again her hands made convulsive pressure, again she
started to get up.

"I must go. I tell you, I must. I--I can't stay here."

"Very well." Mrs. Mundy looked toward Selwyn and away from me.
"When you're steady you can go. Mr. Thorne will telephone for a cab
and I will take you--home."

"Oh no!" The girl's face became the pallor that frightens, and on
either side of her a hand was dug in the couch on which she was
sitting. "I'm all right now. I don't want a cab. I just want to