The things we do!

She flung
herself upon the bed, her hands clasped, her lips moving in
supplication.
But now it came again, that was it--it was a footfall. It
approached along the hall, paused at the barricaded door. It was
there outside, stopping. She heard a breath drawn. The knob was
tried, silently at first, then with greater force. "Who is there?"
she quavered. "Who is there?" she repeated. No answer came.
"Jeanne!" she cried aloud. "Oh, Jeanne! Jeanne! Sally!"
There was once a sound of a distant door opening. No voice came.
Outside her own door now was silence.
She could endure no more. Though it were into flames, she must
escape from this place, where came one to claim a property, not a
woman; where a woman faced use, not wooing. God! And there was no
weapon, to assure God's vengeance now, here, at once.
Half-clad as she was, she ran to the window, and unhesitatingly let
herself out over the sill, clutching at the ivy as she did so. She
feared not at all what now was before her.


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