beg, promise—­lie.  She did not believe she could lie to him again—­nor that she could make him believe a lie. ...  Pretense between them had become an impossibility. ...  She wanted him to know she had not gone with Dulac, would not go with Dulac.  It seemed to her she could not bear to have him think that of her.  She had made his love impossible, but she craved his respect.  That was all. ...  She was freed from him—­and it was better so.  The phase of it that she did not analyze was why her heart ached so.  She did not study into that.

“I don’t want him—­back,” she said to Hilda.  “It would be just like it was—­before.”

“What are you going to do, then?  You’ve got to do something.”

“I don’t know. ...  Why must I do something?  Why can’t I just wait—­ and let him do what—­whatever is done?”

“Because—­if I know anything about Bonbright—­he won’t do a thing. ...  He’ll just step aside quietly and make no fuss.  I’m afraid he’s—­ hurt.  And he’s been hurt so much before.”

“I’m—­sorry.”  The words sounded weak, ineffectual.  They did not express her feelings, her remorse, her self-accusation.

“Sorry?...  You haven’t cut a dance with him, you know, or kept him waiting while you did your hair. ...  You’ve more or less messed up his life.  Yes, you have.  There isn’t any use mincing words.  Your motives may have been lofty and noble and all that sort of thing—­ from your point of view.  But his point of view is what I’m thinking about now. ...  Sorry!”

“Don’t scold.  I can’t—­bear it.  I can’t bear anything more. ...  Please go away.  I know you despise me.  Leave me alone.  Go away...”

“I’ll do nothing of the kind.  You’re all upset-and you deserve a heap more than scolding. ...  But I like you.”  Hilda was always direct.  “You’re more or less of a little idiot, with your insane notions and your Joan of Arc silliness, but I like you.  You’re not fit to be left alone.  I’m in charge. ...  So go and dabble cold water on your eyes, so you don’t look like Nazimova in the last act, and come along with. me.  We’ll take a drive, and then I’m coming back to stay all night with you. ...  Yes, I am,” she said, with decision, as Ruth started to object.  “You do what I say.”

Hilda drove Ruth to her own house.  “I’ve got to tell mother I’m going to stay with you,” she said.  “Will you come in?”

“No—­please,” Ruth answered.

“I won’t be but a jiffy, then.”  And Hilda left Ruth alone in the electric.  Alone!  Suddenly Ruth was afraid of being alone.  She was thankful for Hilda, thankful Hilda was going to see her through.

Hilda’s father and mother were in the library.

“Thought you were going some place with Bonbright and his wife,” said Malcolm Lightener.

“Dad,” said Hilda, with characteristic bluntness and lack of preface, “they’re in a dickens of a mess.”

“Bonbright?”