The Dark Star

From overhead sounded the roaring dissonance of an elevated train; on

either side of her phantom shapes swarmed--figures which moved

everywhere around her, now illumined by shop windows, now silhouetted

against them. And always through the deafening confusion in her brain,

the dismay, the stupefaction, one dreadful fear dominated--the fear of

Brandes--the dread and horror of this Judas who had denied her.

She could not drive the scene from her mind--the never-to-be forgotten

picture where he stood with blood from his cut lip striping his fat

chin. She heard his voice denying her through swollen lips that

scarcely moved--denying that he had married her.

And in her ears still sounded the other voice--the terrible words of

the woman who had struck him--an unsteady, unreal voice accusing him;

and her brain throbbed with the horrible repetition: "Dirty dog--dirty

dog--dirty dog----" until, almost out of her mind, she dropped her bag

and clapped both hands over her ears.

One or two men stared at her. A taxi driver came from beside his car

and asked her if she was ill. But she caught up her suitcase and

hurried on without answering.

* * * * * She was very tired. She had come to the end of the lighted avenue.

There was darkness ahead, a wall, trees, and electric lights sparkling

among the foliage.

Perhaps the sudden glimpse of a wide and star-set sky quieted her,

calmed her. Freed suddenly from the cañon of the city's streets, the

unreasoning panic of a trapped thing subsided a little.

Her arm ached; she shifted the suitcase to her other hand and looked

across at the trees and at the high stars above, striving desperately

for self-command.

Something had to be done. She must find some place where she could sit

down. Where was she to find it?

For a while she could feel her limbs trembling; but gradually the

heavy thudding of her pulses quieted; nobody molested her; nobody had

followed her. That she was quite lost did not matter; she had also

lost this man who had denied her, somewhere in the depths of the

confusion behind her. That was all that mattered--escape from him,

from the terrible woman who had struck him and reviled him.

With an effort she checked her thoughts and struggled for

self-command. Somewhere in the city there must be a railroad station

from which a train would take her home.

With the thought came the desperate longing for flight, and a rush of

tears that almost choked her. Nothing mattered now except her mother's

arms; the rest was a nightmare, the horror of a dream which still

threatened, still clutched at her with shadowy and spectral menace.

For a moment or two she stood there on the curb, her eyes closed,

fighting for self-control, forcing her disorganized brain to duty.