ggedly.

"She is going to live there until you take her out of it, bodily if you
please, and you are going to become so all-fired sorry for her that
you'll--"

"Good Lord, Simmy," shouted Thorpe, springing to his feet with a bitter
imprecation, "don't go on like this. I can't stand it. I know how she
hates it. I know how frightened, how miserable she is down there. It _is_
a prison,--no, worse than that, it is haunted by something that you cannot
possibly--My God, it must be awful for her, all alone,--shivering,
listening,--something crawly--something sinister and accusing--Why, she--"

"Here, here, old fellow!" cried Simmy in alarm. "Don't go off your nut.
You're talking like a crazy man,--and, hang it all, I don't like the look
in your eye. Gosh, if it gives you the creeps--who don't have to be down
there of nights,--what must it be for that shrinking, sensitive--Hey! Where
are you going?"

"I'm going down there to see her. I'm going to tell her that I was a cur
to write what I did to her the day I sailed. I--" He stopped short near the
door, and faced his friend. His hands were clenched.

"I shall see her just this once,--never again if I can avoid it," he said.
"Just to tell her that I don't want her to live in that house. She's got
to get out. I'll not know a moment's peace until she is out of that
house."

Simmy heard the door slam and a few minutes later the opening and closing
of the elevator cage. He sat quite still, looking out over the trees. He
was a rather pathetic figure.

"I wonder if I'd be so loyal to him if I had a chance myself," he mused.
"Oh, Lordy, Lordy!" He closed his eyes as if in pain.

CHAPTER XXVIII

The storm burst in all its fury when Thorpe was half way down the Avenue
in the taxi he had picked up at the Plaza. Pedestrians scurried in all
directions, seeking shelter from the wind and rain; the blackness of night
had fallen upon the city; the mighty roar of a thousand cannon came out of
the clouds; terrifying flashes rent the skies. The man in the taxi neither
saw nor heard the savage assault of the elements. He was accustomed to the
roar of battle. He was used to thinking with something worse than thunder
in his ears, and something worse than raindrops beating about him.

He knew that Anne was afraid of the thunder and the lightning. More than
once she had huddled close to him and trembled in the haven of his arms,
her fingers to her ears, while storms raged about them.