The sound of Miss Painter's latch-key made her start. Shewas still a bundle of quivering fears to whom each comingmoment seemed a menace.

　　There was a slight interval, and a sound of voices in thehall; then Miss Painter's vigorous hand was on the door.

　　Anna stood up as she came in. "You've found him?""I've found Sophy.""And Owen?--has she seen him? Is he here?""SHE'S here: in the hall. She wants to speak to you.""Here--NOW?" Anna found no voice for more.

　　"She drove back with me," Miss Painter continued in the toneof impartial narrative. "The cabman was impertinent. I'vegot his number." She fumbled in a stout black reticule.

　　"Oh, I can't--" broke from Anna; but she collected herself,remembering that to betray her unwillingness to see the girlwas to risk revealing much more.

　　"She thought you might be too tired to see her: she wouldn'tcome in till I'd found out."Anna drew a quick breath. An instant's thought had told herthat Sophy Viner would hardly have taken such a step unlesssomething more important had happened. "Ask her to come,please," she said.

　　Miss Painter, from the threshold, turned back to announceher intention of going immediately to the police station toreport the cabman's delinquency; then she passed out, andSophy Viner entered.

　　The look in the girl's face showed that she had indeed comeunwillingly; yet she seemed animated by an eagerresoluteness that made Anna ashamed of her tremors. For amoment they looked at each other in silence, as if thethoughts between them were packed too thick for speech; thenAnna said, in a voice from which she strove to take the edgeof hardness: "You know where Owen is, Miss Painter tellsme.""Yes; that was my reason for asking you to see me." Sophyspoke simply, without constraint or hesitation.

　　"I thought he'd promised you--" Anna interposed.

　　"He did; but he broke his promise. That's what I thought Iought to tell you.""Thank you." Anna went on tentatively: "He left Givre thismorning without a word. I followed him because I wasafraid..."She broke off again and the girl took up her phrase. "Youwere afraid he'd guessed? He HAS...""What do you mean--guessed what?""That you know something he doesn't...something that madeyou glad to have me go.""Oh--" Anna moaned. If she had wanted more pain she had itnow. "He's told you this?" she faltered.

　　"He hasn't told me, because I haven't seen him. I kept himoff--I made Mrs. Farlow get rid of him. But he's written mewhat he came to say; and that was it.""Oh, poor Owen!" broke from Anna. Through all theintricacies of her suffering she felt the separate pang ofhis.

　　"And I want to ask you," the girl continued, "to let me seehim; for of course," she added in the same strange voice ofenergy, "I wouldn't unless you consented.""To see him?" Anna tried to gather together her startledthoughts. "What use would it be? What could you tell him?""I want to tell him the truth," said Sophy Viner.

　　The two women looked at each other, and a burning blush roseto Anna's forehead. "I don't understand," she faltered.

　　Sophy waited a moment; then she lowered her voice to say: "Idon't want him to think worse of me than he need...""Worse?""Yes--to think such things as you're thinking now...I wanthim to know exactly what happened...then I want to bid himgood-bye."Anna tried to clear a way through her own wonder andconfusion. She felt herself obscurely moved.

　　"Wouldn't it be worse for him?""To hear the truth? It would be better, at any rate, for youand Mr. Darrow."At the sound of the name Anna lifted her head quickly. "I'veonly my step-son to consider!"The girl threw a startled look at her. "You don't mean--you're not going to give him up?&q............