e boy he had been.

"Thank you," she said, coldly, as she took the paper; "I will give it
to my father. He will do what is necessary. Good-night, Mr. Woods."

Then she locked up the desk in a businesslike fashion and turned to
him, and held out her hand.

"Good-night, Billy," said this perfectly inconsistent young woman.
"For a moment I thought Uncle Fred had altered his will in your
favour. I almost wish he had."

Billy smiled a little.

"That would never have done," he said, gravely, as he shook
hands; "you forget what a sordid, and heartless, and generally
good-for-nothing chap I am, Peggy. It's much better as it is."

Only the tiniest, the flimsiest fiction, her eyes craved of him. Even
now, at the eleventh hour, lie to me, Billy Woods, and, oh, how gladly
I will believe!

But he merely said "Good-night, Peggy," and went out of the room. His
broad shoulders had a pathetic droop, a listlessness.

Margaret was glad. Of course, she was glad. At last, she had told him
exactly what she thought of him. Why shouldn't she be glad? She was
delighted.

So, by way of expressing this delight, she sat down at the desk and
began to cry very softly.

XIII

Having duly considered the emptiness of existence, the unworthiness of
men, the dreary future that awaited her--though this did not trouble
her greatly, as she confidently expected to die soon--and many other
such dolorous topics, Miss Hugonin decided to retire for the night.
She rose, filled with speculations as to the paltriness of life and
the probability of her eyes being red in the morning.

"It will be all his fault if they are," she consoled herself.
"Doubtless he'll be very much pleased. After robbing me of all faith
in humanity, I dare say the one thing needed to complete his happiness
is to make me look like a fright. I hate him! After making me
miserable, now, I suppose he'll go off and make some other woman
miserable. Oh, of course, he'll make love to the first woman he meets
who has any money. I'm sure she's welcome to him. I only pity any
woman who has to put up with _him_. No, I don't," Margaret decided,
after reflection; "I hate her, too!"

Miss Hugonin went to the door leading to the hallway and paused.
Then--I grieve to relate it--she shook a little pink-tipped fist in
the air.

"I detest you!" she commented, between her teeth; "oh, how _dare_ you
make me feel so ashamed of the way I've treated you!"

The query--as possibly you may have