ust a matter of business" said McBride hastily.
"I'm no philanthropist, John, but just a plain man of business who'll
drive a close bargain if he can."

"At any rate, I'm going to thank you," insisted North, smiling
pleasantly. "Good-by," and he extended his hand, which the old merchant
took.

"Good-by, and good luck to you, John, and you might drop me a line now
and then just to say how you get on."

"I will. Good-by!"

"I know you'll succeed, John. A bit of application, a bit of necessity
to spur you on, and we'll be proud of you yet!"

North laughed as he opened the door and stepped out; and Archibald
McBride, looking through his dingy show-windows, watched him until he
disappeared down the street; then he turned and reentered his office.

Meanwhile North hurried away with the remnant of his little fortune in
his pocket. Five minutes' walk brought him to the building that had
sheltered him for the last few years. He climbed the stairs and entered
the long hail above. He paused, key in hand, before his door, when he
heard behind him a light footfall on the uncarpeted floor and the swish
of a woman's skirts. As he turned abruptly, the woman who had evidently
followed him up from the street, came swiftly down the hall toward him.

"Jack!" she said, when she was quite near.

The short winter's day had brought an early twilight to the place, and
the woman was closely veiled, but the moment she spoke North recognized
her, for there was something in the mellow full-throated quality of her
speech which belonged only to one voice that he knew.

"Mrs. Langham!--Evelyn!" he exclaimed, starting back in dismay.

"Hush, Jack, you needn't call it from the housetops!" As she spoke she
swept aside her veil and he saw her face, a superlatively pretty face
with scarlet smiling lips and dark luminous eyes that were smiling, too.

"Do you want to see me, Evelyn?" he asked awkwardly.

But she was neither awkward nor embarrassed; she was still smiling up
into his face with reckless eyes and brilliant lips. She pointed to the
door with her small gloved hand.

"Open it, Jack!" she commanded.

For a moment he hesitated. She was the one person he did not wish to
see, least of all did he wish to see her there. She was not nicely
discreet, as he well knew. She did many things that were not wise, that
were, indeed, frankly imprudent. But clearly they could not stand there
in the hallway. Gilmore or some of Gilmore's friends might