h for
the pause in the chatter and laughter which it seemed must follow. The
moment was forever connected in her mind with the smell of delicate
food, and fading flowers, and human beings well-washed and perfumed,
which floated out to her from the dining-room. She looked about her at
the luxuriously furnished great hall, and hated every inch of it.

If the noise was heard, it evidently passed for something dropped by a
servant, for Colonel Fiske, who was telling a humorous story, went on,
his recital punctuated by bass and treble anticipatory laughter from
his auditors: "--and when he called her upon the 'phone the next day
to ask her about it, she said _she_ didn't know he'd been there at
all!" A roar of appreciation greeted this recondite climax, under
cover of which Sylvia opened the front door and shut it behind her.

The pure coldness of the winter night struck sharply and gratefully on
her senses after the warmth and indoor odors of the house. She sprang
forward along the porch and down the steps, distending her nostrils
and filling her lungs again and again. These long deep breaths seemed
to her like the renewal of life.

As her foot grated on the gravel of the driveway she heard a stealthy
sound back of her, at which her heart leaped up and stood still. The
front door of the house had opened very quietly and shut again. She
looked over her shoulder fearfully, preparing to race down the road,
but seeing only Mrs. Fiske's tall, stooping figure, stopped and turned
expectantly. The older woman came down the steps towards the fugitive,
apparently unaware of the biting winter wind on her bared shoulders.
Quite at a loss, and suspiciously on her guard, Sylvia waited for her,
searching the blurred pale face with impatient inquiry.

"I--I thought I'd walk with you a little ways," said the other,
looking down at her guest.

"Oh no! _Don't_!" pleaded Sylvia in despair lest some one notice her
hostess' absence. "You'll take a dreadful cold! With no wraps on--_do_
go back! I'm not a bit afraid!"

The other looked at her with a smoldering flush rising through the
ashes of her gray face. "It wasn't that--I didn't suppose you'd
be afraid--I--I just thought I'd like to go a ways with you,"
she repeated, bringing out the words confusedly and with obvious
difficulty. "_I_ won't make you late," she added, as if guessing the
girl's thoughts. She put a thin hand on Sylvia's arm and drew her
rapidly along the driveway. For a mo