ve an exclamation of anger.

"You don't mean to tell me," he cried, "that you're going on with this?"

"Yes," she said, And then in sudden alarm cried: "But not if you're
here! I'll fail if you're here. Promise me, you will not be here."

"Indeed," cried the man indignantly, "I will not! But I'll be downstairs
when you need me. And," he added warningly, "you'll need me." "No," said
the girl. "No matter what happens, I tell you, between us, this is the
end."

"Then," begged the man, "if this is the end, for God's sake, Vera, as my
last request, do not do it!"

The girl shook her head. "No," she repeated firmly. "I've tried to get
away from it, and each time they've forced me back. Now, I'll go on with
it. I've promised Paul, and the others. And you heard me promise that
woman."

"But you didn't mean that!" protested the man. "She insulted you; you
were angry. You're angry now, piqued--"

"Mr. Winthrop," interrupted the girl, "today you told me I was not
playing the game. You told the truth. When you said this was a mean
business, you were right. But"--for the first time since she had spoken
her tones were shaken, uncertain--"I've been driven out of every other
business." She waited until her voice was again under control, and then
said slowly, definitely, "and, tonight, I am going to show Mr. Hallowell
the spirit of his sister."

In the eyes of Winthrop the look of pain, of disappointment, of
reproach, was so keen, that the girl turned her own away.

"No," said the man gently, "you will not do that."

"You can stop my doing it tonight," returned the girl, "but at some
other time, at some other place, I will do it."

"You yourself will stop it," said Winthrop. "You are too honest, too
fine, to act such a lie. Why not be yourself?" he begged. "Why not
disappoint these other people who do not know you? Why disappoint the
man who knows you best, who trusts you, who believes in you--".

"You are the very one," interrupted the girl, "who doesn't know me. I am
not fine; I am not honest. I am a charlatan and a cheat; I am all that
woman called me. And that is why you can't know me. That's why. I told
you, if you did, you would be sorry."

"I am not sorry," said Winthrop.

"You will be," returned the girl, "before the night is over."

"On the contrary," answered the man quietly, "I shall wait here to
congratulate you--on your failure."

"I shall not fail," said the girl. Avoiding his eyes, she turned from
him