oung Persigny, the
explorer, in South America. By the time he returns the affair will have
been forgotten. He's a nice young fellow, and it's a thousand pities he
should have fallen into the net of a woman like Mrs. Eveleth. I don't
want to say anything against her, you understand--"

"Oh, quite!"

"But--"

Mr. Grimston pronounced the word with a hard-drawn breath, and presented
the appearance of a man who restrains himself. He was still endeavoring
to maintain this attitude of repression when a discreet tap on the door
called from Mr. van Tromp a gruff "Come in." A young man entered with a
card.

"She's here," the banker grunted, reading the name.

Mr. Grimston shot up again.

"Better let me see her," he insisted, in a warning tone.

"No, no. I'll have a look at her myself. Bring the lady in," he added,
to the young man in waiting.

"Then I'll skip," said Mr. Grimston, suiting the action to the word by
disappearing in one direction as Diane entered from another.

Mr. van Tromp rose heavily, and surveyed her as she crossed the floor
toward him. He had been expecting some such seductive French beauty as
he had occasionally seen on the stage on the rare occasions when he went
to a play; so that the trimness of this little figure in widow's dress,
with white bands and cuffs, after the English fashion, somewhat
disconcerted him. Unaccustomed to the ways of banks, Diane half offered
her hand, but, as he was on his guard against taking it, she stood still
before him.

"Mrs. Eveleth, I believe," he said, when he had surveyed her well. "Have
the goodness to sit down, and tell me what I can do for you."

Diane took the seat he indicated, which left a discreet space between
them. The heavy black satchel she carried she placed on the floor beside
her. When she raised her veil, Mr. van Tromp observed to himself that
the pale face, touching in expression, and the brown eyes, in which
there seemed to lurk a gentle reproach against the world for having
treated her so badly, were exactly what he would have expected in a
woman coming to borrow money.

"I've come to you, Mr. van Tromp," Diane began, timidly, "because I
thought that perhaps--you might know--who I am."

"I don't know anything at all about you," was the not encouraging
response.

"Of course there's no reason why you should--" Diane hastened to say,
apologetically.

"None whatever," he assured her.

"Only that a good many people do know us--"

"I dare