He moved toward the door.

"How'll I know you won't tell her when I'm gone?" he growled.

"Merely by my saying that I won't," I answered curtly. "You're
in no position to dictate terms; I am."

But I could, without leaving the 'phone, latch the chain on the
door behind him, leaving it half open. So he must have heard the
rest.

"Yes, Mrs. Ramsay, waiting?" I croaked like the driest kind of
hello-girl. "I was mistaken. It was a message left to be
delivered to you--not some one wanting to speak with you. Who am
I? Why, this is Central. Here is the message: `Will be with you
in half an hour.' Signed `Edward.' . . .

Yes, that's right. Thank you. Good night."

I hung up, gave the door a touch that shut it in his face and
went back into the dining-room to throw open the windows. The
place smelled of alcohol; the moral atmosphere left behind by
that bad old man sickened me.

I leaned out and looked at the stars and tried to think of
something sweet and wholesome and strengthening.

"Ah, Nance," I cried to myself with a sob--I had pretended to
take it lightly enough when he was here, but now--"if you had