ed, dejectedly. "She is
not at herself. She is imagining things. All that chatter about knowing
something that I don't know may be just a crazy notion."

At one o'clock Lizzie reluctantly undressed for bed, for she felt that
she was not in the mood for sleep, and she was sure she would have one
of her headaches in the morning. She was about to turn out her light
when she decided that she would ask Jane how she felt. So she tiptoed to
the door of Jane's room and rapped.

"Who--who--who-- What is it?" came in a low, halting voice from within.

"Me, Jane," and Lizzie tried the latch, only to find, to her surprise,
that the door was locked. She waited a moment and then, full of dire
fancies, she shook the knob and rapped more vigorously. "Let me in,
Jane," she cried. "I want to see you. I must see you!"

But the appalling thing now was that Jane still made no effort to speak
or move, and Lizzie was thoroughly frightened. She beat the door with
both hands and kicked it.

"Open up or I'll break in!" she cried.

There was a pause, followed by a crash on the floor within the room.
Jane had stumbled over a chair and upset it. There was another
unaccountable pause, then Lizzie heard Jane's hands sliding on the door,
feeling their way to the lock. The key was fumbled, then slowly turned,
and Lizzie pushed the door open. There in the dark, robed in her new
pink-silk gown, as Lizzie afterward discovered, stood Jane. She muttered
something inarticulately and stepped or reeled back toward her bed.
Lizzie groped forward, wondering, fearing she knew not what. She laid
hold of Jane's arm and for a moment the two stood face to face in
silence. Then Jane began to mutter in slow, vacuous tones:

"You bet I had a good time. I've lived on the best. I rolled 'em high
and had friends that could pay their way. I'm a sport. I was born a
sport, and been a sport from the day I ran away from school till now."

"What is the matter? Why are you dressed up like this?" Lizzie had felt
the silk sleeve of the gown Jane was wearing.

"Huh! You can't guess, can you?" Jane said, with a low, insinuating
laugh. Lizzie said nothing. She knew where Jane's matches were and she
got one and started to strike it.

"Stop! None of that!" Jane cried. "I don't want no light. Huh! I prefer
darkness to light! You know where that comes from, don't you? It is from
the Bible. 'Those whose deeds are evil,' you remember? Well, size me up
as you like, old girl. I've