a long time, they sat silent. Then they began to talk in low tones of anything but the thoughts that were in both their minds, until a stealthy rustle at the basement door brought them around with a start to see Annie, all in white, fumbling at the latch. She got the door open and drifted out into the light, bare-footed. Beatty stiffened at the sight of her face. The cook started up and caught her by the arm. She swung unsteadily. "That 's me money," she said tonelessly; and Beatty heard the ring of coins on the area paving.
"Annie! Annie!" the cook cried.
"An' that 's me purse," she said, dropping it.
The cook threw her arms about her. "Annie! Annie dear! What 's this fer? What ails yeh, gurl?"
She put a hand down to loosen the cook's arm from her side. "'T will burn yeh," she said. "Me heart 's all afire there, like the pi'ture." A bit of silver fell from her sleeve and tinkled at her feet. She looked down at it. "I put it by fer Jawn.… What 's become of Jawn? Jawn?"
The cook backed her to the rocking-chair and forced her to sit down. "Dang yer Jawn!" she cried. "Will yeh drive us all daft?"
It was then, for the first time, she got the light on the girl's face—a face set like stone, while the eyes shifted and wept—and she wailed: "Ach, Annie darlin'," and dropped on her knees beside her. "Is it come to this, gurl? Dear Lord, what 've they been doin' to yeh? Look at me. Look at me, child."
Annie was staring at Beatty, and he was sitting cold
