Winthrop bent his head suddenly, and lifting the hand, kissed
it; and then, without again speaking, walked quickly into the
hall and shut the door. In the room the dusk deepened. Through
the open windows came the roar of the Sixth Avenue Elevated, the
insistent clamor of an electric hansom, the murmur of Broadway
at night. The tears had suddenly ceased, but the girl had not
moved. At last, slowly, stiffly, she raised her head. Her eyes,
filled with wonder, with amazement, were fixed upon her hand.
She glanced cautiously about her. Assured she was alone, with
her other hand she lifted the one Winthrop had kissed and held
it pressed against her lips.

The folding doors were thrown open, letting in a flood of light,
and Mabel Vance, entering swiftly, knelt at the table and bent
her head close to Vera.

"That woman's in the hall," she whispered, "that niece of
Hallowell's. Paul and Mannie can't get rid of her. Now she's got
hold of Winthrop. She says she will see you. Be careful!"

Vera rose. That Mabel might not see she had been weeping, she
walked to the piano, covertly drying her eyes.

"What," she asked dully, "does she want with me?"

"About tonight," answered Mabel. She exclaimed fiercely, "I told
them there'd be trouble!"

With Vance upon her heels, Helen Coates came in quickly from the