"Yes, I did. And if you have been listening, as you had the courage to say you had, you already know my reasons for writing it." Mrs.

Franklyn-Haldene was recovering.

"You must apologize," he said.

"Apologize? I think not. On my part there is nothing more to be said."

"I see that I shall have to apologize for you. Patty, I am very sorry that this has happened, and I can promise you that it shall end here.

Will you accept my apology?"

After some hesitance, Patty nodded. She could not very well refuse.

She had always liked Mr. Haldene. As. .h.i.therto remarked, Patty's was an impulsive heart. Suddenly she stretched out her hands toward the wife.

"What have I or mine ever done to you that you should seek to injure us so cruelly? Have we wronged you in thought or deed? What is it that has made you my enemy?"

"I am not your enemy, Patty," said the elder woman, melting ever so slightly. "I have told you that I did not wish to see your life made wretched by marrying a man of Warrington's loose habits, and that I could not tolerate the woman who is your brother's wife."

Patty held out her hand for the letter. She had no desire to remain any longer. She wanted nothing but the privilege of being alone, that she might weep the bitter, galling tears that were br.i.m.m.i.n.g her eyes....

She had no recollection of gaining the street. It was true, it was true! She did not even remember how she reached her room; but as her blurred eyes saw the bed, she fell upon it in a stupor that for a long while did not give any outlet to her tears.

In the meantime Haldene faced his wife.

"I am going down town presently," he said. "I shall send you up by messenger several cabin-plans."

"Cabin-plans?" amazed at this odd turn in affairs.

"Yes. You will spend the winter either in Egypt or Italy, as it pleases you."

"Europe? But my social obligations demand my presence here!" she expostulated.

"You will cancel them. You will go to Europe. Anonymous letters!" He struck the desk violently. It was the first touch of this kind he had ever exhibited in her presence, and it terrified her. "When I married you, people said I married your money. As G.o.d is above us, I loved you. Yes, I loved you. But how long was it permitted that this love should live? Six slender months! You, you of all women, you write anonymous letters?" He laughed, but it was laughter that had nothing human in it. "Madam, when I die my deposit box at the bank will be turned over to you. In it you will find six anonymous letters. They have lain there sixteen years. I took the advice of one and followed you. So I let them believe that I had married you for your money. I meant to have my revenge after I was dead. Madam, you will go to Europe. I shall not be home to lunch, but you may expect me at dinner.

I am curious to learn whether it will be in Egypt and the Holy Land, or Italy, the land of the fig-tree and the vine. Good morning."

When he was gone, Mrs. Franklyn-Haldene realized, for the first time in sixteen years, that she had married a man. Suddenly her knees gave from under her, and she sank into her chair, staring at the floor with unseeing eyes. For sixteen years!

That afternoon Warrington had a visit. His visitors were Jordan, the reporter, and Osborne. They appeared to be in high spirits.

"We've got him, d.i.c.k!" exclaimed Jordan, swinging his hat.

"Got whom?"

"Morrissy--Morrissy and McQuade," said Osborne, in his whisky-roughened voice. "We've got 'em all right, d.i.c.k. Look at this,"

tossing a wrinkled sheet of carbon-paper on Warrington's desk.

Warrington spread it out. It took him but a minute to find out the richness of his possession.

"Where did you come across this?" he asked eagerly.

"My niece found it in her waste-basket. I've sent her into the country to visit relatives," said Osborne. "But if you use it, d.i.c.k, you'll have to find the girl another job in some other town."

"You leave that to me. This is worth a thousand to me and a thousand more to John Bennington. Now, both of you go down to any restaurant in town and order what you like, and as long as you like, and you have them call me up if there's any question."

The reporter and the semi-outcast smiled at each other. They saw their appet.i.tes appeased to satiety.

"Does a bottle go with the order, d.i.c.k?" asked Jordan.

"Half a dozen!" laughed Warrington.

"I've put you in the City Hall, d.i.c.k," said Osborne. "And don't forget me when you're there."

"Will there be a story for me?" Jordan asked.

"You'll have a page, Ben."

"That's enough. Well, come on, Bill; we'll show the new mayor that we can order like gentlemen."

"I remember--" But Osborne never completed his reminiscence. Jordan was already propelling him toward the door.

Once the door had closed upon them, Warrington capered around the room like a school-boy. The publication of this confederacy between Morrissy and McQuade would swing the doubting element over to his side and split the ranks of the labor party.

Patty, Patty Bennington! He must see her. It was impossible to wait another day. When was it he had seen her last? Patty, dark-eyed, elfish, winsome, merry! Oh, yes, he must see her at once, this very afternoon. He could no longer repress the tide of his love, which surged at the flood-gates of his heart with mighty pressure. Patty!

Patty!

"Patty is not feeling well," said Mrs. Bennington, as she welcomed Warrington at the door, an hour later. "I will call her. I am sure she will be glad to see you."

Warrington went into the music-room, placed his hat on the piano, and idled about impatiently. That morning he had not possessed the courage; now he was willing to face lions and tigers, anything rather than permit another day to pa.s.s without telling Patty that he loved her. When she finally appeared she was pale, her eyes were red, but her head was erect and her lips firm.

"Patty, are you ill?" hastening toward her.

"I have a very bad headache," coldly. "You wished to see me?"

Where were all the tender words he had planned to speak? Patty had been weeping!

"You have been crying. What has happened?" anxiously.

"It can not interest you," wearily. Men! She would have a horror of them for the rest of her days.

"Not interest me? Don't you know, haven't you seen by this time, that you interest me more than any other living being or any angel in Heaven?"

Patty caught at the portiere to steady herself. She had not expected declarations of this kind.

"Don't you know," he hurried on, his voice gaining in pa.s.sion and tenderness, "don't you know that a pain to you means triple pain to me? Don't you know that I love you? Patty, what is the trouble? You are not a woman to weep over headaches."

"Do you wish to know, then?" bitterly. She hated him! How could he stand there telling her that he loved her? "Read this," presenting the letter. "I despise you!"

"Despise me? What in G.o.d's name is the matter?"

"Read, read!" vehemently.