She had set the spark to the powder; by to-morrow the devastation would be complete. That, she knew full well. And he—the man she loved above all else in life—in order to escape must seek safety with those others! All those others—men! men! men! Only she and Margaret, suffering and alone, would stand in the ruins. But from those ruins! Her eyes shone as with a vision of what must be.
"I wish I could tell you—all about it!" the weak, human need called to the absent love. The whispered words brought comfort; even his memory was a stronghold. It always would be, even when she was far away in her In-Place, never to see him again.
How thankful she was that he did not know, really. He could not follow; she would not be able to hurt him—after to-morrow. Her changed name had saved her!
"Priscilla Glynn," she faltered, "hide her, hide her forever, hide poor Priscilla Glenn."
Then her thoughts flew back to the recent past. She had found Margaret alone in her own library.
"Now how did you know I wanted you more than any one else in the world?" Margaret had said. "When did you get back? You baddest of the bad! Why did you hide from me? Where were you?"
"In—Bermuda." How ghastly it sounded, but it caught Margaret's quick thought.
"Sit down, you little ghost of bygone days of bliss. You'll have to play again. Work is killing you. In Bermuda? What doing?"
"Wearing—my cap and apron, dear, dear——"
"Your cap and apron? I thought you burned them! I shall tell Travers, you deceitful, money-getting little fraud! Well, who has taken it out of you so? You are as white as ivory. Do you know the Traverses came in on the St. Cloud to-day?"