He paused, for Desire was confronting him, with a look that was a
peremptory interruption. Her eyes were flashing, her cheeks mantled
with indignant color, and the delicate nostrils were distended with
scorn.

"Me, Desire Edwards, sue for favors of this low fellow! You forget
yourself strangely, Dr. Partridge."

The doctor took his hat from the table and bowed low. "I beg your
pardon, Miss Desire. Possibly your aunt may live through the night,
after all," and he went out of the house shrugging his shoulders.

Desire was still standing in the same attitude when a faint voice
caught her ear, and stepping to a door she opened it, and asked
gently, "What is it, Aunty?"

"Your uncle hasn't gone out, has he?" asked Mrs. Woodbridge, feebly.

"No, Aunty, he's in his study walking to and fro as he's been all day,
you know."

"He musn't go out. I was afraid he'd gone out. Tell him I beg he will
not go out. The mob will kill him."

"I don't think he will go, Aunty."

"Do you think they will make that terrible noise again tonight."

"I--I don't know. I'm afraid so, Aunt Lucy."