VIRGINIA had just dressed in dead black for her visit to the palace of the Governor-General on the Heights. Waldron insisted on sending a state automobile. The machine was at the door with liveried flunkies standing in stiff servant attitudes.

A slender Italian woman passed them with a listless stare and rang the bell of the Holland house.

Virginia answered. She had seen the somber figure from the window.

“Angela!” she cried in surprise.

“Si. Signorina, I may see—you?”

“Yes”—was the quick, sympathetic answer.

The drooping figure shambled to a seat and dropped.

“Tell me—what has happened?” Virginia urged.

“You see the papers?”

“About the riots on the East Side—yes—the people were very foolish—”

The woman leaned close—her breath coming in deep quivering draughts.

“They kill my bambino—signorina! The shell tore his little heart all out—see! I bring the flag he wore—all red with blood. And now I come to you—you speak so grand, I want my revenge—”

She paused, strangled with emotion.

“I keep this flag and I love it too! I will kill and kill and kill! ............