yours left you, forgot you, for two whole days--left you to the company
of a dead man, to a chance stranger? Is that what you call
kindness--friendship--affection?"

She made no answer.

A moment later a voice was heard calling softly: "Carrie?"

The girl came out of the shelter of the eaves, and Max at last caught
sight of her face. It was sad, pale, altogether different from what the
reckless, defiant, rather hard tones of her latest words would have led
him to expect. A haunting face, Max thought.

"I must go," said she. "Good-bye."

"Carrie!" repeated the voice, calling again, impatiently.

Max knew, although he could not see the owner of the voice, that it was
"Dick." It was, he thought, a coarse voice, full of intimations of the
swaggering self-assertion of the low-class Londoner, who thinks himself
the whole world's superior.

Carrie called out:

"All right; I'm coming!" And then she turned to Max. "You are to forget
this place, and me," said she, in a whisper.

The next moment Max found himself alone.