She sat still.

He was at the door. "Come on," he said.

She looked appealingly, helplessly round that empty, lonely,
strange station, its lights dim, its suggestions all inhospitable.
"He has me at his mercy," she said to herself, between anger and
despair. "How can I refuse to go without becoming the laughing-
stock of the whole world?"

"Come on--Rita!" he cried. The voice was aggressive, but his face
was deathly pale and the look out of his eyes was the call of a
great loneliness. And she saw it and felt it. She braced herself
against it; but a sob surged up in her throat--the answer of her
heart to his heart's cry of loneliness and love.

"Chicago Express!" came in the train-caller's warning roar from
behind her, as if the room were crowded instead of tenanted by
those two only. "All aboard! ...Hurry up, lady, or you'll get
left!"

Get left! ... Left!--the explosion of that hoarse, ominous voice
seemed to blow Mrs. Joshua Craig from the seat, to sweep her out
through the door her husband was holding open, and into the train
for their home.

THE END