on her knees, trying to force down the lid, but her wrists were too
weak.) "He would come back at once. How lovely Maria looked in that
black lace mantilla! He would kiss her mouth and smooth her hair."
(Kitty, still kneeling, was staring at the wall with pale cheeks
and distended eyes. The lock snapped as it shut. She rose and began
putting on her gray hat and veil.) "No woman could go to the city
through that dark; and there is a storm coming. If I did it, what
would he care for me? I am only Kitty. I would sit in the window here
alone year after year, growing into a neglected old maid, and watch
him go by with his happy wife and children. I need not interfere. I
can throw the telegram into the fire and let them both go their ways.
What are they to me?" She had buttoned her sacque and gloves, and now
went up to the glass. It was a childish face that she looked at, but
one now exceptionally grave and reserved.

She walked quickly down and tapped at the kitchen door: "When the
porter comes for my trunk, Jane, give it to him. Tell my mother when
she comes it was necessary for me to leave home to help a friend. I
shall be back in a few days--if I am alive."

"De Lord be good to us, honey!" Jane stood aghast. Kitty came suddenly
up to the old woman and kissed her. She felt quite alone in the world
in beginning this desperate undertaking. The next moment she passed
the window and was gone.

Miss Muller, with a satchel and shawl-strap, would have started coolly
at an hour's notice alone for the Yosemite or Japan. But Kitty, with
the enormous trunk, which was her sole idea of travel, set out through
the night and storm, feeling death clutching at her on every side.