s, you will," she said, malevolently. "People forgive themselves
pretty easily." The contempt checked for a little the ravages of her
grief. "Stop crying," she commanded harshly. "Nobody is going to hurt
you." She thrust the money again toward the girl, and crowded it into
the half-reluctant, half-greedy hand.

"Take it, and get out." The contempt in her voice rang still sharper,
mordant.

Even the puling creature writhed under the lash of Mary's tones. She
sprang up, slinking back a step.

"I can't take it!" she cried, whimpering. But she did not drop the
money.

"Take the chance while you have it," Mary counseled, still with the
contempt that pierced even the hardened girl's sense of selfishness. She
pointed toward the door. "Go!--before I change my mind."

The girl needed, indeed, no second bidding. With the money still
clutched in her hand, she went forth swiftly, stumbling a little in her
haste, fearful lest, at the last moment, the woman she had so wronged
should in fact change in mood, take back the money--ay, even give her
over to that terrible man with the eyes of hate, to put her to death as
she deserved.

Freed from the miasma of that presence, Mary remained motionless for a
long minute, then sighed from her tortured heart. She turned and went
slowly to her chair at the desk, and seated herself languidly, weakened
by the ordeal through which she had passed.

"A girl I didn't know!" she said, bewilderedly; "perhaps had never
spoken to--who smashed my life like that! Oh, if it wasn't so awful, it
would be--funny! It would be funny!" A gust of hysterical laughter burst
from her. "Why, it is funny!" she cried, wildly. "It is funny!"

"Mary!" Garson exclaimed sharply. He leaped across the room to face her.
"That's no good!" he said severely.

Aggie, too, rushed forward.

"No good at all!" she declared loudly.

The interference recalled the distressed woman to herself. She made a
desperate effort for self-command. Little by little, the unmeaning look
died down, and presently she sat silent and moveless, staring at the two
with stormy eyes out of a wan face.

"You were right," she said at last, in a lifeless voice. "It's done, and
can't be undone. I was a fool to let it affect me like that. I really
thought I had lost all feeling about it, but the sight of that girl--the
knowledge that she had done it--brought it all back to me. Well, you
understand, don't you?"

"We understand," Garson said, grimly