that moment the same triumph as when Storch had turned the
key in its lock... Hilmer always did walk directly to his objective
... but there were times when subtleties had more power. He remembered
the quiet thrust of his own voice measuring his adversary's
expectancy:

"A man in my situation needs nothing, Hilmer ... least of all
_money_!"

He never forgot the look of contempt which Hilmer threw at him ... but
this time it had been a contempt for the unfathomable. Helen's face
was white; only Mrs. Hilmer had continued to smile ... a set, ghastly,
cruel smile of complete satisfaction. And, in the silence which
followed, it was Mrs. Hilmer's voice that brought them all back with a
start as she said:

"Well, here we are ... home again!"

It was the same voice that had broken in upon another tense situation
months before with:

"What nice corn pudding this is, Mrs. Starratt...Would you mind
telling me how you made it?"

Had they been moving in a circle since that fatal evening, Fred had
found himself wondering...or had he merely been dreaming?

The scene which followed had been unforgetable--the chauffeur and
Hilmer lifting Mrs. Hilmer into her wheeled chair; Helen Starratt
coming forward considerately with a steamer rug for the invalid's
comfort; Fred, standing outside the pale of all this activity like a
dreamer constructing stage directions for the puppets of his
imagination. And out of the almost placid atmosphere of domestic
bustle the voice of Mrs. Hilmer again breaking the stillness, this
time with a cool and knifelike precision as she said, turning her
pale, icy eyes on Helen Starratt:

"My dear, your nurse-girl days are over...We've had you a long time
and we can't be too selfish--now that your husband is back!"

Could Fred ever wipe from his memory the startled look which had swept
Helen's face as she released her hold on the wheeled chair? Or the
diabolical content with which Mrs. Hilmer settled back as she went on
slowly, clearly, as if the steady drip of her words fascinated her:

"You wouldn't want to stay here...this is no place for lovers...And,
besides, there isn't room for _two_!"

Helen's hands had fallen inertly at her sides as she stood facing
Hilmer, as if waiting for his decision. But he had made no move, he
merely had returned her gaze in equal silence. At that moment Mrs.
Hilmer's clawlike fingers closed over her husband's mangled thumb with
a clutch of triumph and she had turned wit