“What’s he there for?” Mark asked gruffly.

Julia explained:  the accident—­the emergency call.

“Well, but the kid is not there now, you say?”

“Yes, I know.  But he didn’t know that.  I suppose he’s calling on his aunt.”

To this Mark made no immediate answer.  Presently he said: 

“City and County!  I’ll bet the city pays for his automobile!”

“Oh, no!” Julia protested.  “He’s a rich man in his own right, Mark.”

They were at the house now, and went up the steps together.  Doctor Studdiford was in the little reception hall with Miss Toland.  He looked very handsome, very cheerful, as he came forward with his fine eyes on Julia.  And Julia stood looking up at him with an expression Mark never had won from her, her serious, beautiful little face flooded with light, her round eyes soft and luminous.  A woman at last, she seemed as she stood there, a grave and wise and beautiful woman, ripe for her share of loving and living, ready to find her mate.

“You got the book?” Jim said, with a little laugh.  He laughed because his heart was shaking curiously, and because the sudden sight of Julia disconcerted him so that he hardly knew what he said.

Julia did not answer; she only touched the wilting and fragrant violets on her breast with her free hand.  Jim still held one hand.

“You—­you’ll like Browning,” added Jim.  And inconsequentially he added, “I was thinking of our little talk yesterday—­all night.”

“So was I,” Julia breathed.  They turned suddenly and self-consciously to Miss Toland and Mark.  Julia introduced the men; her breath was coming unevenly and her colour was exquisite; she talked nervously, and did not meet Mark’s eye.  Mark was offered a lift in Doctor Studdiford’s motor car, and declined it.  The doctor seemed to be in no hurry to go; wandered into her room to advise his aunt upon the placing of a telephone extension.  Julia and Mark loitered about the assembly hall for a few empty moments, and then Mark said he must go, and Julia, absently consenting, went with him toward the stage door.

“And he’s rich, is he?” said Mark.

Julia came out of a brief dream.

“He’s very rich—­yes!” she smiled.

She mounted to the stage as she spoke, and Mark held out his hand and turned about as if to say goodbye.  The next instant Julia felt as if the dull twilight room had turned to brass and was falling with a wild clamour; she felt as if her heart were being dragged bodily to her lips, and she heard her own wild scream.

Silence fell, and Mark was still staring at her, still smiling.  But now he toppled slowly toward her and stumbled, and as his body, with a hideous, slithering sound, slipped down to the floor, his arm fell lax, and the still smoking revolver slid to Julia’s very feet.

“Stop, Julia—­what is it?—­what is it?” Miss Toland was crying.  She locked her arms tight about the girl, and drew her back into the reception hall.  Julia was silent, suddenly realizing that she had been screaming.  She moved her tongue over her dry lips, and struggled to explain.