do just as good, specially if it's the bleedin' v'riety. No! P'licemen
ain't what I'd reckmend, for bein' called to the resquer. In the first
place, they ain't ap' to be there. An', besides, they wouldn't know what
to do if they was. P'licemen is funny that way.

"They mean well, but they get upset if anythin' 's doin' on their beat.
They like things quiet. An' they don't like to _run in_ their friends,
an' so, by the time you think you made 'em understand what you're
drivin' at, _the villain_ has got away, an' you're like to be hauled up
before the magistrate for disturbin' the peace, which, bein' so shy an'
bashful before high officials, p'licemen don't like to blow in at court
without somethin' to show for the way they been workin'."

It all flashed across Claire's mind in an instant, like a picture thrown
across a screen. Then, without pausing to consider what she meant to do,
she halted, turned, and--was face to face with Francis Ronald.

Before he could speak, she flashed upon him two angry eyes.

"What do you mean by following me?"

"It is late--too late for you to be out in the streets alone," he
answered quietly.

Claire laughed. "You forget I'm not a society girl. I'm a girl who works
for her living. I can't carry a chaperon about with me wherever I go. I
must take care of myself, and--I know how to do it. I'm not afraid."

"I believe you."

"Then--good-night!"

"I intend to see you home."

"I don't need you."

"Nevertheless, I intend to see you home."

"I don't--_want_ you."

"Notwithstanding which--"

He hailed a passing motor-taxi, gave the chauffeur Martha's street and
number, after he had succeeded in extracting them from Claire, and then,
in spite of protests, helped her in.

For a long time she sat beside him in silence, trying to quell in
herself a weak inclination to shed tears, because--because he had
compelled her to do something against her will.

He did not attempt any conversation, and when, at last, she spoke, it
was of her own accord.

"I've decided to resign my position."

"Is it permitted me to know why?"

"I can't stay."

"That is no explanation."

"I don't feel I can manage Radcliffe."

"Pardon me, you know you can. You have proved it. He is your bond-slave,
from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer."

Claire laughed, a sharp, cutting little laugh that was like a keen knife
turned on herself.

"O, it would have to be for poorer--'all