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“Mary, listen,” Joris insisted.”It happens Marianne has a headache too and has turned in. This is the last night I’ll have a chance to see you alone. Besides, you told me you’d neverhad a headache.”

Mary laughed.

“That’s true–but I amtired.”

“I would promise to stay one-half hour–word of honor. I am only just around the corner.”

“No,” she said and a faint touch of annoyance gave firmness to the word.”Tomorrow I’ll have either lunch or dinner if you like, but now I’m going to bed.”

She stopped. She had heard a sound, a weight crunching against the outer door of her apartment. Then three odd, short bell rings.

“There’s someone–call me in the morning,” she said. Hurriedly hanging up the phone she got into a dressing gown.

By the door of her apartment she asked cautiously.

“Who’s there?”

No answer–only a heavier sound–a human slipping to the floor.

“Who is it?”

She drew back and away from a frightening moan. There was a little shutter high in the door, like the peephole of a speakeasy, a
nd feeling sure from the sound that whoever it was, wounded or drunk, was on the floor Mary reached up and peeped out. She could see only a hand covered with freshly ripening blood, and shut the trap hurriedly. After a shaken moment, she peered once more.

This time she recognized something–afterwards she could not have said what–a way the arm lay, a corner of the plaster cast–but it was enough to make her open the door quickly and duck down to Martin’s side.

“Get doctor,” he whispered.”Fell on the steps and broke.”

His eyes closed as she ran for the phone.

Doctor and ambulance came at the same time. What Martin had done was simple enough, a little triumph of misfortune. On the first flight of stairs that he had gone up for eight weeks, he had stumbled, tried to save himself with the arm that was no good for anything, then spun down catching and ripping on the stair rail. After that a five minute drag up to her door.

Mary wanted to exclaim, “Why? Why?” but there was no one to hear. He came awake as the stretcher was put under him to carry him to the hospital, repair the new breakage with a new cast, start it over again. Seeing Mary he called quickly.”Don’t you come. I don’t like anyone around when–when–Promise on your word of honor not to come?”

The orthopedist said he would phone her in an hour. And five minutes later it was with the confused thought that he was already calling that Mary answered the phone.

“I can’t talk, Joris,” she said.”There was an awful accident–“

“Can I help?”

“It’s gone now. It was my husband–“

Suddenly Mary knew she wanted to do anything but wait alone for word from the hospital.

“Come over then,” she said.”You can take me up there if I’m needed.”

She sat in place by the phone until he came–jumped to her feet with an exclamation at his ring.

“Why? Why?” she sobbed at last.”I offered to go see him at his hotel.”

“Not drunk?”

“No, no–he almost never takes a drink. Will you wait right outside my door while I dress and get ready?”

The news came half an hour later that Martin’s shoulder was set again, that he was sleeping under the ethylene gas and would sleep till morning. Joris Deglen was very gentle, swinging her feet up on the sofa, putting a pillow at her back and answering her incessant “Why?” with a different response every time–Martin had been delirious; he was lonely; then at a certain moment telling the truth he had long guessed at: Martin was jealous.

“That was it,” Mary said bitterly.”We were to be free–only I wasn’t free. Only free to sneak about behind his back.”