nd now--"

"Do you think you must go? Isn't there some way? If things are so bad
you could hardly get there in time, and--you must think of yourself a
little, Anna."

"I am not thinking of anything else. Peter, I'm an uncommonly selfish
woman, but I--"

Quite without warning she burst out crying, unlovely, audible weeping
that shook her narrow shoulders. Harmony heard the sound and joined
them. After a look at Anna she sat down beside her and put a white
arm over her shoulders. She did not try to speak. Anna's noisy grief
subsided as suddenly as it came. She patted Harmony's hand in mute
acknowledgment and dried her eyes.

"I'm not grieving, child," she said; "I'm only realizing what a selfish
old maid I am. I'm crying because I'm a disappointment to myself. Harry,
I'm going back to America."

And that, after hours of discussion, was where they ended. Anna must go
at once. Peter must keep the apartment, having Jimmy to look after and
to hide. What was a frightful dilemma to him and to Harmony Anna took
rather lightly.

"You'll find some one else to take my place," she said. "If I had a day
I could find a dozen."

"And in the interval?" Harmony asked, without looking at Peter.

"The interval! Tut! Peter is your brother, to all intents and purposes.
And if you are thinking of scandal-mongers, who will know?"

Having determined to go, no arguments moved Anna, nor could either of
the two think of anything to urge beyond a situation she refused to
see, or rather a situation she refused to acknowledge. She was not as
comfortable as she pretended. During all that long night, while snow
sifted down into the ugly yard and made it beautiful, while Jimmy slept
and the white mice played, while Harmony tossed and tried to sleep and
Peter sat in his cold room and smoked his pipe, Anna packed her untidy
belongings and added a name now and then to a list that was meant
for Peter, a list of possible substitutes for herself in the little
household.

She left early the next morning, a grim little person who bent over the
sleeping boy hungrily, and insisted on carrying her own bag down the
stairs. Harmony did not go to the station, but stayed at home, pale and
silent, hovering around against Jimmy's awakening and struggling against
a feeling of panic. Not that she feared Peter or herself. But she
was conventional; shielded girls are accustomed to lean for a certain
support on the proprieties, as bridgeplayers depend on rules.