h you can't," he observed. "Only, I can't help
thinking, with all this town to pick from, you might have chosen a
fellow with two dressing gowns and two chairs."

* * * * *

He was extremely quiet all the next day. Miss Boyd could hear him,
behind the partition with its "Please Keep Out" sign, fussing with
bottles and occasionally whistling to himself. Once it was the "Long,
Long Trail," and a moment later he appeared in his doorway, grinning.

"Sorry," he said. "I've got in the habit of thinking to the fool thing.
Won't do it again."

"You must be thinking hard."

"I am," he replied, grimly, and disappeared. She could hear the slight
unevenness of his steps as he moved about, but there was no more
whistling. Edith Boyd leaned both elbows on the top of a showcase and
fell into a profound and troubled thought. Mostly her thoughts were of
Willy Cameron, but some of them were for herself. Up dreary and sordid
by-paths her mind wandered; she was facing ugly facts for the first
time, and a little shudder of disgust shook her. He wanted to meet her
family. He was a gentleman and he wanted to meet her family. Well, he
could meet them all right, and maybe he would understand then that she
had never had a chance. In all her young life no man had ever proposed
letting her family look him over. Hardly ever had they visited her at
home, and when they did they seemed always glad to get away. She had met
them on street corners, and slipped back alone, fearful of every creak
of the old staircase, and her mother's querulous voice calling to her:

"Edie, where've you been all this time?" And she had lied. How she had
lied!

"I'm through with all that," she resolved. "It wasn't any fun anyhow.
I'm sick of hating myself."

Some time later Willy Cameron heard the telephone ring, and taking
pad and pencil started forward. But Miss Boyd was at the telephone,
conducting a personal conversation.

"No.... No, I think not.... Look here, Lou, I've said no twice."

There was a rather lengthy silence while she listened. Then: "You might
as well have it straight, Lou. I'm through.... No, I'm not sick. I'm
just through.... I wouldn't.... What's the use?"

Willy Cameron, retreating into his lair, was unhappily conscious that
the girl was on the verge of tears. He puzzled over the situation for
some time. His immediate instinct was to help any troubled creature,
and it had dawned on him that