Anderson could enjoy without a scratch, but she would
make sure of the fundamental things which Jane would
never stop to consider.

She threw herself on the couch in her favorite
position against the pillows, drew the kitten into her
arms and hugged him violently.

"It's all right, Mr. Thomascat; we'll show them,"
she purred softly. "We'll see who wins at last, the
eagle who soars or the little wren in the hedge close
beside the garden wall--we'll see, Kitty--we'll see!"

The room was still, the noise of the street-cars
below muffled with the first soft blanket of snow. The
street lamps flickered in the wind with a pale subdued
light that scarcely brought out the furnishings of her
nest. She was in the habit of dreaming in this window
for hours with only the light from the lamps on the
street.

The Square, deserted by its tramp lovers, lay white
and still and cold. The old battle with the Blue
Devils was on again within. The fight with Jane had
been easy. She had always found it easy to face
temptation in the concrete. The moment Satan appeared
in human shape she was up in arms and ready for the
fray. It was this silent hour she dreaded when the
defenses of the soul were down.