She jerked her blouse off, still standing by the window, and when the
sleeve caught on her watch, she jerked that off, too. She stood for a
moment with it in her hand, her face twisted with shame and anger. Then
recklessly and furiously she flung it through the open window.

In the stillness of the street far below she heard it strike and
rebound.

"That for him!" she muttered.

Almost immediately she wanted it again. He had given it to her. It was
all she had left now, and in a curious way it had, through long wearing,
come to mean Graham to her. She leaned out of the window. She thought
she saw it gleaming in the gutter, and already, attracted by the crash,
a man was crossing the street to where it lay.

"You let that alone," she called down desperately. The figure was
already stooping over it. Entirely reckless now, she ran, bare-armed and
bare-bosomed, down the stairs and out into the street. She had thought
to see its finder escaping, but he was still standing where he had
picked it up.

"It's mine," she began. "I dropped it out of the window. I--"

"You threw it out of the window. I saw you."

It was Rudolph.

"You--" He snarled, and stood with menacing eyes fixed on her bare neck.

"Rudolph!"