A motor car dashed to the side of the street, and Jordan Morse helped Molly to the pavement. She stood for a moment looking at the gorge building contemplatively.

“And she’s been here all the while?” she remarked.

“Yes, and a devil of a time I’ve had to keep her, too. If there’d been any one in the whole place, I believe she’d have made them hear; though since the boy came she’s behaved better.” Morse’s face became positively brutal under recollections. “I’ve made her mind through him,” he terminated.

Jinnie had put Bobbie into bed and kissed him, and soon the child was breathing evenly. She knew Jordan Morse would come that night, so she closed the door between the two rooms and walked nervously up and down. Bobbie was always ill for hours after Morse had made his daily calls. She hoped the man would allow the child to remain in bed. When the key grated in the lock, she was standing in the middle of the room, her eyes fastened on the door. Every time he came, she had hopes that he might relent, if but a little.

Morse entered, followed by Molly the Merry. Jinnie took a step forward when she saw the woman. Molly paused and inspected sharply the slim young figure, her mind comprehending all its loveliness. Then woman to woman they measured each other, as only women can. Jinnie advanced impulsively. 305

“You’ve come to take me home!” she breathed.

Molly shook her head.

“I’ve come to talk to you,” she retorted hoarsely.

Never had she seen so beautiful a girl! The martyrdom Jinnie had endured had only enhanced her attractiveness.

“Sit down,” said Molly peevishly.

Jinnie made a negative gesture.

“I’m tired of sitting.... Oh, you will do something for me, something for poor little Bobbie?”

Morse moved to the door between the two rooms, but Jinnie rushed in front of him.

“He’s asleep,” she said beseechingly. “Don’t wake him up! He’s had a dreadful spell with his heart to-day.”

Morse turned inquiring eyes upon Molly.

“You wanted to see him, didn’t you?” he asked.

Molly flung out a hand pettishly.

“Let him sleep,” she replied. “I don’t want to be bored with fits and tears.”

Jinnie sank into a chair.

“He ought to have a doctor,” she sighed, as if she were speaking to herself. Then turning to Molly, she bent an entreating look upon her.

“Please do something for him. Get a doctor, oh, do! He’s so little and so sick.”

“I’m not a bit interested in him,” replied Molly with a shrug.

Jinnie’s nerves had borne all they could. She trembled unceasingly. The girlish spirit had been broken by Morse’s continual persecution.

“He’s so little,” she petitioned again, “and he can’t live long.”

As Molly had said, she was not interested in the sleeping child. The only time she cared to hear him mentioned was when Jordan told her of Jinnie’s anguish over his 306 treatment of the child. She had delighted in his vividly described scene of how he had forced the girl to do his will through her love for the little fellow. Now she, too, would wreak her vengeance on Jinnie through the same source.

“I’ve come to tell you something about Theodore King,” she remarked slowly, watching the girl avidly the while.

Jinnie sat up quickly. If her dear one had sent her a message, then he must know where she was.

“Then tell it,” was all she said.

Molly put her hand into a leather hand bag and drew forth a letter.

“It isn’t for you,” she stated, with glinting eyes. “I’ve known for a long time you thought he cared for you––”

“He does,” interjected Jinnie emphatically.

“I think not. Here’s a letter he wrote to me. It will dispel any idea you may have about his affection for you.”

“I don’t wish to read your letter,” said Jinnie proudly.

“Read it!” ordered Morse frowning, and because she feared him, Jinnie took the letter nervously. The woman’s words had shattered her last hope. For a moment the well-known handwriting whirled; then the words came clearly before her vision:

“My Darling,” she read.

“Won’t you come to me when you get this? My heart aches to have you once more in my arms. I shall expect you very soon. With all my love,

“Theodore.”

It was not strange that she crushed the paper between her fingers.

“You needn’t destroy my letter,” Molly said mockingly, thrusting forth her hand. “Give it to me.” 307

She took it from Jinnie’s shaking hand and, smoothing it out, replaced it in her pocket book.

“I wouldn’t have come but for your own good,” she said, looking up. “Mr. Morse told me you had an idea that Mr. King loved you, and I want you to write him a letter––”

“Write who a letter?” asked Jinnie dully.

“Theodore.”

“Why?”

“Because I tell you to,” snapped Molly.

Then taking another letter from her bag, she held it out.

“You’re to copy this and give it to Mr. Morse to-morrow.”

Jinnie took the letter and read it slowly. She struggled to her feet.

“I’ll not write it,” she said hoarsely.

“I think you will,” said Morse, rising.

Jinnie stared at him until he reached the closed door behind which Bobbie slept.

“Don’t! Don’t!” she shuddered. “I’ll write, I’ll do anything if you won’t hurt Bobbie.” Raising her eyes to Morse, she said in subdued tones, “I’ll try to give it to you to-morrow.”

Never had her heart ached as it did then. The perils she was passing through and had passed through were naught to the present misery. She realized then her hope had been in Theodore’s rescuing her.

A certain new dignity, however, grew upon her at that moment. She stood up, looking very tall, very slight, to the man and woman watching her.

“I wish you’d both go,” she said wearily. “I’d rather be alone with Bobbie.”

Molly smiled and went out with Jordan Morse. 308

“She gave in all right,” remarked Molly, when they were riding down the hill. “I knew she would.”

Morse shrugged his shoulders.

“Of course. She worships Grandoken’s youngster.... I was wondering there once how you felt when you knew she was reading her own letter.”

Molly’s face grew dark with passionate rebellion.

“He’ll write me one of my own before the year is out,” said she.

“I’m not so sure!” responded Morse thoughtfully.

For a long time after the closing of the door, Jinnie sat huddled in the chair. Nothing else in all the world could have hurt her as she had been hurt that night, and it wasn’t until very late that she crept in beside the blind boy, and after four or five hours, dropped asleep.