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"I asked him, as you said in your note.He told me he knew no reason."So Drumley had decided it was best Rod should not know why she left.Well, perhaps--probably--Drumley was right.But there was no reason why he shouldn't know the truth now."I left,"said she, "because I saw we were bad for each other."This amused him.She saw that he did not believe.It wounded her, but she smiled carelessly.Her smile encouraged him to say: "I couldn't quite make up my mind whether the reason was jealousy or because you had the soul of a shameless woman.

You see, I know human nature, and I know that a woman who once crosses the line never crosses back.I'll always have to watch you, my dear.But somehow I like it.I guess you have--you and I have--a rotten streak in us.We were brought up too strictly.That always makes one either too firm or too loose.I used to think I liked good women.But I don't.

They bore me.That shows I'm rotten."

"Or that your idea of what's good is--is mistaken.""You don't pretend that _you_ haven't done wrong?" cried Rod.

"I might have done worse," replied she."I might have wronged others.No, Rod, I can't honestly say I've ever felt wicked.""Why, what brought you here?"

She reflected a moment, then smiled."Two things brought me down," said she."In the first place, I wasn't raised right.

I was raised as a lady instead of as a human being.So Ididn't know how to meet the conditions of life.In the second place--" her smile returned, broadened--"I was too--too what's called `good.'""Pity about you!" mocked he.

"Being what's called good is all very well if you're independent or if you've got a husband or a father to do life's dirty work for you--or, perhaps, if you happen to be in some profession like preaching or teaching--though I don't believe the so-called `goodness' would let you get very far even as a preacher.In most lines, to practice what we're taught as children would be to go to the bottom like a stone.

You know this is a hard world, Rod.It's full of men and women fighting desperately for food and clothes and a roof to cover them--fighting each other.And to get on you've got to have the courage and the indifference to your fellow beings that'll enable you to do it.""There's a lot of truth in that," admitted Spenser."If I'd not been such a `good fellow,' as they call it--a fellow everybody liked--if I'd been like Brent, for instance--Brent, who never would have any friends, who never would do anything for anybody but himself, who hadn't a thought except for his career--why, I'd be where he is."It was at the tip of Susan's tongue to say, "Yes--strong--able to help others--able to do things worth while." But she did not speak.

Rod went on: "I'm not going to be a fool any longer.I'm going to be too busy to have friends or to help people or to do anything but push my own interests."Susan, indifferent to being thus wholly misunderstood, was again moving toward the door."I'll be back this evening, as usual," said she.

Spenser's face became hard and lowering: "You're going to stay here now, or you're not coming back," said he."You can take your choice.Do you want me to know you've got the soul of a streetwalker?"She stood at the foot of the bed, gazing at the wall above his head."I must earn our expenses until we're safe," said she, once more telling a literal truth that was yet a complete deception.

"Why do you fret me?" exclaimed he."Do you want me to be sick again?""Suppose you didn't get the advance right away," urged she.

"I tell you I shall get it! And I won't have you--do as you are doing.If you go, you go for keeps."She seated herself."Do you want me to read or take dictation?"His face expressed the satisfaction small people find in small successes at asserting authority."Don't be angry," said he.

"I'm acting for your good.I'm saving you from yourself.""I'm not angry," replied she, her strange eyes resting upon him.

He shifted uncomfortably."Now what does that look mean?" he demanded with an uneasy laugh.

She smiled, shrugged her shoulders.

Sperry--small and thin, a weather-beaten, wooden face suggesting Mr.Punch, sly keen eyes, theater in every tone and gesture Sperry pushed the scenario hastily to completion and was so successful with Fitzalan that on Sunday afternoon he brought two hundred and fifty dollars, Spenser's half of the advance money.

"Didn't I tell you!" said Spenser to Susan, in triumph.

"We'll move at once.Go pack your traps and put them in a carriage, and by the time you're back here Sperry and the nurses will have me ready."It was about three when Susan got to her room.Clara heard her come in and soon appeared, bare feet in mules, hair hanging every which way.Despite the softening effect of the white nightdress and of the framing of abundant hair, her face was hard and coarse.She had been drunk on liquor and on opium the night before, and the effects were wearing off.As she was only twenty years old, the hard coarse look would withdraw before youth in a few hours; it was there only temporarily as a foreshadowing of what Clara would look like in five years or so.

"Hello, Lorna," said she."Gee, what a bun my fellow and Ihad on last night! Did you hear us scrapping when we came in about five o'clock?""No," replied Susan."I was up late and had a lot to do, and was kept at the hospital all day.I guess I must have fallen asleep.""He gave me an awful beating," pursued Clara."But I got one good crack at him with a bottle." She laughed."I don't think he'll be doing much flirting till his cheek heals up.