companion's arm, the better to assist her in the
perils of the crossing, raised his eyes and at once lost interest in
Annabel Sinclair and her kind.

The woman driving the car to all appearances had not recognized him,
her absorption preventing her from differentiating the human species
beyond the broad classification of those likely to be run over and
those in no such danger. Her color was high, and her face despite a
grim intentness indicated keen satisfaction. A handsome boy sat beside
her, and Justin had a confused impression of a number of other children
in charge of a buxom girl on the back seat. He stood motionless gazing
after the flying car and oblivious to Annabel's resentful glances.

"Well, good afternoon if you've decided to spend the rest of the day on
the street corner."

Justin roused himself. But he had lost heart in these amateur
theatricals.

"Whose car is Persis Dale driving?"

"Her own. A year brings changes, you see, Mr. Ware. The car and the
children all belong to her."

"What!" he shouted. His first not unnatural idea was that Persis had
become the wife of a prosperous widower, and he was astonished at the
pang for which this thought was responsible. Resentfully Annabel
recognized the difference between the voice of real emotion and
counterfeit tenderness.

Her lips curled as she allayed his consternation. "She came into a
little money--an obliging aunt died, I believe. Pity it hadn't come
early enough to do her some real good. She patched up her old house,
and adopted five or six orphan-asylum kids, and I suppose the poor
thing thinks she's having a good time." Even to the most prejudiced
eye Annabel could not have looked beautiful at that moment. The venom
that poisoned her spirit, disfigured her face like a scar. Hag-ridden
by those unlovely twins, jealousy and hate, she looked for the instant
prematurely old.

Justin did not notice. He was absorbed in gleaning from her all
possible information as to the change in Persis' circumstances and
quite indifferent to the emotions of his reluctant informant. With the
relentlessness of the thoroughly selfish, he continued his
cross-examination till Annabel's mind seemed to herself a squeezed
orange. She felt something like terror mingling with a sense of
physical exhaustion. It always frightened her to find herself unable
to keep a man's attention focused on herself when she had him to
herself.

"When shall I see you agai