steria, she did not quite lose her head. She had
unusual self-control.

"Let me go," she gasped. Annie saw that Margaret carried a suit-case,
which had probably somewhat hindered her movements. "Let me go, I
shall miss the ten-thirty train," Margaret said in her breathless
voice.

"Where are you going?"

"I am going."

"Where?"

"Anywhere,--away from it all."

The two struggled together as far as Alice's gate, and to Annie's
great relief, a tall figure appeared, Alice herself. She opened the
gate and came on Margaret's other side.

"What is the matter?" she asked.

"I am going to take the ten-thirty train," said Margaret.

"Where are you going?"

"To New York."

"Where in New York?"

"I am going."

"You are not going," said Alice Mendon; "you will return quietly to
your own home like a sensible woman. You are running away, and you
know it."

"Yes, I am," said Margaret in her desperate voice. "You would run
away if you were in my place, Alice Mendon."

"I could never be in your place," said Alice, "but if I were, I
should stay and face the situation." She spoke with quite
undisguised scorn and yet with pity.

"You must think of your husband and children and not entirely of
yourself," she added.

"If," said Margaret, stammering as she spoke, "I tell Wilbur, I think
it will kill him. If I tell the children, they will never really have
a mother again. They will never forget. But if I do not tell, I shall
not have myself. It is a horrible thing not to have yourself, Alice
Mendon."

"It is the only way."

"It is easy for you to talk, Alice Mendon. You have never been
tempted."

"No," replied Alice, "that is quite true. I have never been tempted
because--I cannot be tempted."

"It is no credit to you. You were made so."

"Yes, that is true also. I was made so. It is no credit to me."

Margaret tried to wrench her arm free from Annie's grasp.

"Let me go, Annie Eustace," she said. "I hate you."

"I don't care if you do," replied Annie. "I don't love you any more
myself. I don't hate you, but I certainly don't love you."

"I stole your laurels," said Margaret, and she seemed to snap out the
words.

"You could have had the laurels," said Annie, "without stealing, if I
could have given them to you. It is not the laurels that matter. It
is you."

"I will kill myself if it ever is known," said Margaret in a low
horrified whisper. She cowered.

"It will never be known unless you yourself t