She opened the window silently.
"Bart," she whispered.

Then a little louder, "Bart--Bart Toyner." The one thing that she wanted just then was to be alone, and of all people in the world Toyner was the man whom she least wanted to meet.
Yet she called him.

She got out of the window and took a few paces on one side and on the other in the darkness, still calling his name in a voice of soft entreaty.

In his old drunken days she had scorned him.

She scorned him now more than ever, but she still believed that her call would never reach his ear in vain.