"If you only had a telephone in your room." "There is one in the hall." "Then you can call me in a moment if you should get frightened or need me?" "You are good." "You will not hesitate?" "No." "Then I shall feel that I am still near you. I will have a cab in waiting and on an emergency can reach here in twenty minutes. You could keep yourself barricaded until then?" "Yes. But really there is no need. I--" "You have n't wrestled with him. He is strong and--mad." Still he hesitated. If it had been possible without compromise to her he would have remained downstairs. He could roll up in a rug and find all the sleep that he needed. "See here," he exclaimed, as the sane solution to the whole difficulty, "why don't you let me take you and Marie to the Martha Washington?" She placed her hand lightly upon his sleeve. "I shall be all right here. You 'd best go at once and get some sleep. Your eyes look heavy." Every minute that he stood near her he grew more reluctant to leave. It seemed like desertion. As he still stood irresolute, she decided for him. "You must go now," she insisted. "Will you call me if you are even so much as worried--even if it is only a blind making a noise?" "Yes, and that will make me feel quite safe." The booming of a distant clock--jailer of civilization--warned him that he must delay no longer. He took her hand a moment and then turned back into his free barren world. He determined to dine somewhere down town and then spend the evening at a theatre. It was not what he wished, but he did not dare to go back to his room. He did not crave the movement of the crowds as he had