CHAPTER Twenty-five.
_Unhappy Freedom_ Once out in the street Caroline had cast one glance of terror over her shoulder at the towering facade of the house of John Mark, then she fled, as fast as her feet would carry her, straight across the street and up the steps of the rooming house and frantically up the stairs, a panic behind her.
Presently she was tapping hurriedly and loudly on a door, while, with her head turned, she watched for the coming of some swift-avenging figure from behind.

John Mark had given her up, but it was impossible for John Mark to give up anything.

When would he strike?
That was the only question.
Then the door opened.

The very light that poured out into the dim hall was like the reach of a friendly hand, and there was Ronicky Doone laughing for pure joy--and there was Bill Gregg's haggard face, as if he saw a ghost.
"I told you, Bill, and here she is!" After that she forgot Ronicky Doone and the rest of the world except Gregg, as he took her in his arms and asked over and over: "How did it come about?
How did it come about ?" And over and over she answered: "It was Ronicky, Bill.

We owe everything to him and Ruth Tolliver." This brought from Ronicky a sudden question: "And what of her?
What of Ruth Tolliver?
She wouldn't come ?" It pricked the bubble of Caroline's happiness, that question.