not　have　tarried　too　long　on　a　certain　red　night；　Cutty　would　not
  now　be　stumbling　about　the　labyrinths　into　which　his　looting
  instincts　had　thrust　him；　and　Kitty　Conover　would　have　jogged　along
  in　the　humdrum　rut；　if　not　happy　at　least　philosophically　content
  with　her　lot。
  CHAPTER　XXVIII
  Decision　is　always　a　mental　relief；　hesitance　a　curse。　　Kitty；
  having　shifted　her　burdens　to　the　broad　shoulders　of　Cutty；　felt
  as　she　reached　the　lobby　as　if　she　had　left　storm　and　stress
  behind　and　entered　calm。　　She　would　marry　Cutty；　she　had　published
  the　fact；　burned　her　bridges。
  She　had　stepped　into　the　car；　her　heart　full　of　cold　fury。　　Now　she
  began　to　find　excuses　for　Hawksley's　conduct。　　A　sick　brain；　he　was
  not　really　accountable　for　his　acts。　　Her　own　folly　had　opened　the
  way。　　Of　course　she　would　never　see　him　again。　　Why　should　she？
  Their　lives　were　as　far　apart　as　the　Volga　and　the　Hudson。
  Bernini　met　her　in　the　lobby。　　〃I've　got　a　cab　for　you；　Miss
  Conover；〃　he　said　as　if　nothing　at　all　had　happened。
  〃Have　you　Cutty's　address？〃
  〃Yes。〃
  〃Then　take　me　at　once　to　a　telegraph　office。　　I　have　a　very　important
  message　to　send　him。〃
  〃All　right；　Miss　Conover。〃
  〃Say：　'Decision　made。　　It　is　yes。'　　And　sign　it　just　Kitty。〃
  Without　being　conscious　of　it　her　soul　was　still　in　the　clouds；
  where　it　had　been　driven　by　the　music　of　the　fiddle；　thus；　what
  she　assumed　to　be　a　normal　sequence　of　a　train　of　thought　was　only
  a　sublime　impulse。　　She　would　marry　Cutty。　　More；　she　would　be　his
  wife；　his　true　wife。　　For　his　tenderness；　his　generosity；　his
  chivalry；　she　would　pay　him　in　kind。　　There　would　be　no　nonsense；
  love　would　not　enter　into　the　bargain；　but　there　would　be　the
  fragrance　of　perfect　understanding。　　That　he　was　fifty…two　and　she
  was　twenty…four　no　longer　mattered。　　No　more　loneliness；　no　more
  genteel　poverty；　for　such　benefits　she　was　ready　to　pay　the　score
  in　full。　　A　man　she　was　genuinely　fond　of；　a　man　she　could　look　up
  to；　always　depend　upon。
  Was　there　such　a　thing　as　perfect　love？　　She　had　her　doubts。　　She
  reasoned　that　love　was　what　a　body　decided　was　love；　the
  psychological　moment　when　the　physical　attraction　became　irresistible。
  Who　could　tell　before　the　fact　which　was　the　true　and　which　the　false？
  Lived　there　a　woman；　herself　excepted；　who　had　not　hesitated　between
  two　men　…　a　man　who　had　not　doddered　between　two　women　…　for　better
  or　for　worse？　　What　did　the　average　woman　know　of　the　man；　the
  average　man　know　of　the　woman　…　until　afterward？　　To　stake　all　upon
  a　guess！
  She　knew　Cutty。　　Under　her　own　eyes　he　had　passed　through　certain
  proving　fires。　　There　would　be　no　guessing　the　manner　of　man　he　was。
  He　was　fifty…two；　that　is　to　say；　the　grand　passion　had　come　and
  gone。　　There　would　be　mutual　affection　and　comradeship。
  True；　she　had　her　dreams；　but　she　could　lay　them　away　without　any
  particular　regret。　　She　had　never　been　touched　by　the　fire　of
  passion。　　Let　it　go。　　But　she　did　know　what　perfect　comradeship　was；
  and　she　would　grasp　it　and　never　loose　her　hold。　　Something　out　of
  life。
  〃A　narrow　squeak；　Miss　Conover；〃　said　Berumi；　breaking　the　long
  silence。
  〃A　miss　is　as　good　as　a　mile；〃　replied　Kitty；　not　at　all　grateful
  for　the　interruption。
  〃We've　done　everything　we　could　to　protect　you。　　If　you　can't　see
  now　…　why；　the　jig　is　up。　　A　chain　is　as　strong　as　its　weakest　link。
  And　in　a　game　like　this　a　woman　is　always　the　weakest　link。〃
  〃You're　quite　a　philosopher。〃
  〃I　have　reason　to　be。　　I'm　married。〃
  〃Am　I　expected　to　laugh？〃
  〃Miss　Conover；　you're　a　wonder。　　You　come　through　these　affairs　with
  a　smile；　when　you　ought　to　have　hysterics。　　I'll　bet　a　doughnut　that
  when　you　see　a　mouse　you　go　and　get　it　a　piece　of　cheese。〃
  〃Do　you　want　the　truth？　　Well；　I'll　tell　it　to　you。　　You　have　all
  kept　me　on　the　outer　edge　of　this　affair；　and　I've　been　trying　to
  find　out　why。　　I　have　the　reportorial　instinct；　as　they　say。　　I
  inherited　it　from　my　father。　　You　put　a　strange　weapon　in　my　hands；
  you　tell　me　it　is　deadly；　but　you　don't　tell　me　which　end　is　deadly。
  Do　you　know　who　this　Russian　is？〃
  〃Honestly；　I　don't。〃
  〃Does　Cutty？〃
  〃I　don't　know　that；　either。〃
  〃Did　you　ever　hear　of　a　pair　of　emeralds　called　the　drums　of
  jeopardy？〃
  〃Nope。　　But　I　do　know　if　you　continue　these　stunts　you'll　head　the
  whole　game　into　the　ditch。〃
  〃You　may　set　your　mind　at　ease。　　I'm　going　to　marry　Cutty。　　I　shall
  not　go　to　the　apartment　again　until　Hawksley；　as　he　is　called；　is
  gone。〃
  〃Well；　well；　that's　good　news！　　But　let　me　put　you　wise　to　one　fact；
  Miss　Conover：　you　have　picked　some　man！　　I'm　not　much　of　a　scholar；
  but　knowing　him　as　I　do　I'm　always　wondering　why　they　made　Faith；
  Hope；　and　Charity　in　female　form。　　But　this　night's　work　was　bad
  business。　　They　know　where　the　Russian　is　now；　and　if　the　game　lasts
  long　enough　they'll　reach　the　chief；　find　out　who　he　is；　and　that'll
  put　the　kibosh　on　his　usefulness　here　and　abroad。　　Well；　here's　home；
  and　no　more　lecture　from　me。〃
  〃Sorry　I've　been　so　much　trouble。〃
  〃Perhaps　we　ought　to　have　shown　you　which　end　shoots。〃
  〃Good…night。〃
  If　Kitty　had　any　doubt　as　to　the　wisdom　of　her　decision；　the　cold；
  gloomy　rooms　of　her　apartment　dissipated　them。　　She　wandered　through
  the　rooms；　musing；　calling　back　animated　scenes。　　What　would　the
  spirit　of　her　mother　say？　　Had　she　doddered　between　Conover　and
  Cutty？　　Perhaps。　　But　she　had　been　one　of　the　happy　few　who　had
  guessed　right。　　Singular　thought：　her　mother　would　have　been　happy
  with　Cutty；　too。
  Oh；　the　relief　of　knowing　what　the　future　was　going　to　be！　　She
  took　off　her　hat　and　tossed　it　upon　the　table。　　The　good　things
  of　life；　and　a　good　comrade。
  Food。　　The　larder　would　be　empty　and　there　was　her　breakfast　to
  consider。　　She　passed　out　into　the　kitchen；　wrote　out　a　list　of
  necessities；　and　put　it　on　the　dumb　waiter。　　Now　for　the　dishes
  she　had　so　hurriedly　left。　　She　rolled　up　her　sleeves；　put　on　the
  apron；　and　fell　to　the　task。　　After　such　a　night　…　dish…washing！
  She　laughed。　　It　was　a　funny　old　world。
  Pauses。　　Perhaps　she　should　have　gone　to　a　hotel；　away　from　all
  familiar　objects。　　Those　flatirons　intermittently　pulled　her　eyes
  round。　　Her　fancy　played　tricks　with　her　whenever　her　glance　touched
  the　window。　　Faces　peering　in。　　In　a　burst　of　impatience　she　dropped
  the　dish　towel；　hurried　to　the　window；　and　threw　it　up。　　Black
  emptiness！　。。。　Cutty；　crossing　the　platform　with　Hawksley　on　his
  shoulders。　　She　saw　that；　and　it　comforted　her。
  She　finished　her　work　and　started　for　bed。　　But　first　she　entered
  the　guest　room　and　turned　on　the　lights。　　Olga。　　She　had　intended
  to　ask　him　who　Olga　was。
  A　great　pity。　　They　might　have　been　friends。　　The　back　of　her　hand
  went　to　her　lips　but　did　not　touch　them。　　She　could　not　rub　away
  those　burning　kisses　…　that　is；　not　with　the　back　of　her　hand。
  Vividly　she　saw　him　fiddling　bareheaded　in　front　of　the　Metropolitan
  Opera　House。　　It　seemed；　though；　that　it　had　happened　years　ago。　　A
  great　pity。　　The　charm　of　that　frolic　would　abide　with　her　as　long
  as　she　lived。　　A　brave　man；　too。　　Hadn't　he　left　her　with　a　gay　wave
  of　the　hand；　not　knowing；　for　want　of　strength；　if　he　could　make　the
  detour　of　the　block？　　That　took　courage。　　His　journey　halfway　across
  the　world　had　taken　courage。　　Yet　he　could　so　basely　disillusion　her。
  It　was　not　the　kiss；　it　was　the　smile。　　She　had　seen　that　smile
  before；　born　of　evil。　　If　only　he　had　spoken！
  The　heavenly　magic　of　that　fiddle！　　It　made　her　sad。　　Genius；　the
  ability　to　play　with　souls；　soothe；　tantalize；　lift　up；　and　then　to
  smile　at　her　like　that！
  She　shut　down　the　curtain　upon　these　cogitations　and　summoned　Cutty；
  visualized　his　handsome　head；　shot　with　gray；　the　humour　of　his
  smile。　　She　did　care　for　him；　no　doubt　of　that。　　She　couldn't　have
  sent　that　telegram　else。　　Cutty　…　name　of　a　pipe；　as　the　Frenchmen
  said！　　All　at　once　she　rocked　with　laughter。　　She　was　going　to　marry
  a　man　whose　given　name　she　could　not　recall！　　Henry；　George；　John；
  William？　　For　the　life　of　her　she　could　not　remember。
  And　with　this　laughter　still　bubbling　in　a　softer　note　she　got　into
  bed；　twisted　about　from　side　to　side；　from　this　pillow　to　that；　the
  tired　body　seeking　perfect　relaxation。
  A　broken　melody　entered　her　head。　　Sleepily　she　sought　one　channel
  of　thought　after　another　to　escape；　still　the　melody　persisted。　　As
  her　consciousness　dodged　hither　and　thither　the　bars　and　measures
  joined。。。。　　She　sat　up；　chilled；　bewildered。　　That　Tschaikowsky
  waltz！　　She　could　hear　it　as　clearly　as　if　Johnny　Two…Hawks　and　the
  Amati　were　in　the　very　room。　　She　grew　afraid。　　Of　what？　　She　did
  not　know。
  And　while　she　sat　there　in　bed　threshing　out　this　fear　to　find　the
  grain；　Cutty　was　tramping　the　streets　of　Washington；　her　telegram
  crumpled　in　his　hand。　　From　time　to　time　he　would　open　it　and　reread
  it　under　a　street　lamp。
  To　marry　her　and　then　to　cheat　her。　　It　wasn't　humanly　possible　to
  marry　her　and　then　to　let　her　go。　　He　thought　of　those　warm；　soft
  arms　round　his　neck；　the　absolute　trust　of　that　embrace。　　Molly's
  girl。　　No；　he　could　not　do　it。　　He　would　have　to　back　down；　tell
  her　he　could　not　pu