d rather take a regular salary," said she. "I must
have ten a week for him. I can live any old way."

"Oh, come off!" cried Mr. Blynn with a wink. "What's your game?
Anyhow, don't play it on me. You understand that you can't get
something for nothing. It's all very well to love your friend
and be true to him. But he can't expect--he'll not ask you to
queer yourself. That sort of thing don't go in the profession. . . .
Come now, I'm willing to set you on your feet, give you a
good start, if you'll play fair with me--show appreciation. Will
you or won't you?"

"You mean----" began Susan, and paused there, looking at him
with grave questioning eyes.

His own eyes shifted. "Yes, I mean that. I'm a business man, not
a sentimentalist. I don't want love. I've got no time for it.
But when it comes to giving a girl of the right sort a square
deal and a good time, why you'll find I'm as good as there is
going." He reached for her hands again, his empty, flabby chin
bags quivering. "I want to help Bob, and I want to help you."

She rose slowly, pushing her chair back. She understood now why
Burlingham had kept her in the background, why his quest had
been vain, why it had fretted him into mortal illness.
"I--couldn't do that," she said. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't."

He looked at her in a puzzled way. "You belong to Bob, don't you?"

"No."

"You mean you're straight--a good girl?"

"Yes."

He was half inclined to believe her, so impressive was her quiet
natural way, in favorable contrast to the noisy protests of
women posing as virtuous. "Well--if that's so--why you'd better
drop out of the profession--and get away from Bob Burlingham."

"Can't I have a place without--what you said?"

"Not as pretty a girl as you. And if they ain't pretty the
public don't want 'em."

Susan went to the door leading into the office. "No--the other
door," said Blynn hastily. He did not wish the office boy to
read his defeat in Susan's countenance. He got up himself,
opened the door into the hall. Susan passed out. "Think it
over," said he, eyes and mouth full of longing. "Come round in
a day or two, and we'll have another talk."

"Thank you," said Susan. She felt no anger against him. She felt
about him as she had about Jeb Ferguson. It was not his fault;
it was simply the way life was lived--part of the general misery
and horror of the established order--like marriage and the rest
of it.

"I'll treat y