"If you do—I'll kill you!" she added dangerously; but Rimrock gave no heed. He had forgotten all about her; forgotten she was there, the dead weight that was holding him back; all he saw was Mary, more radiant than ever, moving towards him down the stairs. She was dressed in soft white and her glorious brown hair, that had before been crushed down beneath its clasp, was fluffed out now in all its beauty; and she talked and laughed as she came. At her side was an elderly, distinguished gentleman who listened with an indulgent smile—and then they were engulfed in the crowd. The mass of humanity that had swept them down the stairway closed in and swallowed them up.
She was gone—but she was there—right there through the crowd—and Rimrock started towards her. Mrs. Hardesty followed, dragged on by main strength, and then resolutely she set her feet. The outraged escorts of jostled ladies formed a solid phalanx against him and Rimrock wheeled impatiently.
"Let go of my arm!" he commanded savagely and then he met her eyes. If he had doubted before the nature of the tiger woman he could read it now at a glance. She was choking with anger and her thin, even teeth were bared as she hissed out her breath; and then she spoke, very quietly:
"If you are a gentleman," she said in his ear, "you will not fail to escort me home. Otherwise——"
She stopped, but the roll of her eyes conveyed a threat that went beyond words. She was a tigress, after all, a woman of dark passions and uncontrolled anger, a woman who beneath her languid grace had the strength and the courage to strike. And now as she faced him the mill-race of people surged against them and carried them on. They moved with the crowd, there was no escape, and she lashed him with bitter words. He listened, unchastened, his head held high, his eyes still seeking for Mary; and as they plunged into the opposing currents of the street, he met her, face to face.
The distinguished man was talking now and Mary was listening to what he said; yet her eyes, that were accustomed to read from the lips, were now free to look about. A swift, unbidden gladness leapt up into them at first as she recognized Rimrock in the crowd; and then, quick as lightning, she saw the other woman and the glad look went out of her eyes. They flared up suddenly with the old anger and resentment and as quickly took on a distant stare. Then they turned to her escort and as Rimrock was shoved past them he heard her answer him pleasantly. It was just a word, only a fraction of a word, and then Mrs. Hardesty broke in. What she said fell again upon unheeding ears, but Rimrock knew it was harsh. Harsh and threatening and yet with an undertone of passion that thrilled him against his will.
He found himself in a gliding auto' with the street lights twinkling past, and there he came out of his dream.
"What's the matter with you?" he asked at last as he discovered her still walking on and she burst into hysterical tears.
"What's the matter!" she echoed, "why, can't you see? I'm in love with you—that's what's the matter! Oh, I hate that woman! She's a cruel thing—didn't you see the way she looked at me? But I'll pay her back, I'll get even with her yet! Ah, my God, how I hate the sight of her!"
She fell to weeping and Rimrock, silenced, drew away and left her alone. Then the automobile stopped and through the glass they could see the imposing entrance of the St. Cyngia. The chauffeur reached back and threw open the door and Rimrock leapt quickly out, but Mrs. Hardesty did not follow. She sat in the half-darkness, composing her hair and working swiftly to cover the traces of tears; and when she stepped out she was calm.