shall rave."

With impulsive hands she tore off her tumbled muslin dress, and arrayed
herself in the flaming evening robe which Olga had once condemned. Olga
raised no protest now. She gave her silent assistance. The horrors of
that day had so closed in upon her that she felt fantastically convinced
that nothing she did or left undone could make any difference, or hinder
for the fraction of an instant the fate that so remorselessly pursued
them and was surely every moment drawing nearer. The fear at her heart
had so wound itself into her very being that she was no longer conscious
of it. It possessed her like an evil spell.

So she stood by, sometimes helping, always watching, while her friend's
tragedy leaped from point to point like a spreading forest-fire breeding
destruction.

"You are not afraid of me, Allegro?" Violet asked her suddenly, as she
arranged her black hair with swift, feverish movements.

And Olga answered with truth. "No, dear. I should never be that."

"Not whatever happened? That's right. I'm not really dangerous--so long
as you keep Max out of my way. But, mind--I must never see him again,
never--never--while I live!" She turned from the glass, facing Olga with
eyes in which an awful fire had begun to burn. "I know him!" she said.
"I know him! He will want to shut me up--to keep me as a specimen for
him--and men like him--to study. He and Bruce will do it between them if
they get the chance. But they won't--they won't! Allegro--darling, you
must help me to get away. I can't--can't--be imprisoned for life. You
will help me? Promise me! Promise!"