tand there as if you've lost your voice--how are you going to
square me?"

Summoning up all her courage, she faced him, calmly, defiantly.

"I'm not thinking about squaring _you_," she said ironically. "What am
I going to do for _him_?"

"Not what _you_ are going to do for him," he retorted. "What am _I_
going to do for him? Why, I wouldn't have that young fellow think that
I tricked him into this thing for you or all the rest of the women of
your kind on earth. Good God! I might have known that you, and the
others like you, couldn't be square."

She made no answer. The attitude of hostility and defiance had gone.
She looked at him silently, pleadingly, like some helpless dumb animal
trying to placate its master's wrath. Brockton glanced at his watch,
walked over to the window and then came back to where she stood.
Shaking his fist at her, he muttered:

"You've made a nice mess of it, haven't you?"

"There isn't any mess," she answered weakly. "Please go away. He'll be
here soon. Please let _me_ see him--please do that."

"No," he replied doggedly, "I'll wait. This time I'm going to tell him
myself, and I don't care how tough it is."

Frightened at this suggestion, which might be so full of dire
consequences, she was instantly galvanized into action. Starting up
again, she cried:

"No, you mustn't do that!" Approaching him, she said pleadingly: "Oh,
Will, I'm not offering any excuse. I'm not saying anything, but I'm
telling you the truth. I couldn't give him up--I couldn't do it. I love
him."

Shrugging his shoulders he made an ironical exclamation:

"Huh!"

"Don't you think so?" she went on piteously. "I know you can't see what
I see, but I do. And why can't you go away? Why can't you leave me
this? It's all I ever had. He doesn't know. No one will ever tell him.
I'll take him away. It's the best for him--it's the best for me. Please
go."

He laughed, and, going back to the armchair, deliberately reseated
himself. Ignoring her tearful pleading, he said scornfully:

"Why--do you think that I'm going to let you trip him the way you
tripped me? No. I'm going to stay right here until that man arrives,
and I'm going to tell him that it wasn't my fault. You alone were to
blame."

She listened blankly, staring at him in a bewildered, dazed sort of
way. Her face was white as death, and her hands twisted convulsively.
Slowly, with a half-stifled sob, she cried:

[Illustration: SHE SANK DOWN ON HER KNEES BE