"I might have known--if I let you stay, through pity,
you would--"

"Pity!" said Mr. Heatherbloom.

"Because I did not want to turn you out into the street--"

She spoke the words fiercely. Mr. Heatherbloom seemed now quite
impervious to stab or thrust.

"I permitted you to remain for"--she stopped--"remembering what you once
were; who your people were! What"--flinging the words at him--"you might
have been. Instead--of what you are!"

Mr. Heatherbloom gazed now without wincing; an unnatural absence of
feeling seemed to have passed over his features, making them almost
mask-like. It was as if he stood in some new pellucid atmosphere of his
own.

"Of course," he said, as half speaking to himself, "I must have earned
my salary, or Miss Van Rolsen wouldn't have retained me. So I am not a
recipient of charity. Therefore,"--did the word suggest far-away
school-boy lessons on syllogisms and sophistries--"I have no right to
feel offended in that you let me remain, you say, 'through pity', when
as a matter of fact it was impossible for me to tender my resignation,
in view of--" He finished the rest of a rather involved logical
conclusion to himself, taking his hand out of his pocket now and passing
it lightly, in a somewhat dragging fashion, over his eyes. Then he gazed
momentarily beyond, as if he saw something appertaining to the "auld
lang syne", but recalled himself with a start to the beautiful face, the
threads of gold, the violet eyes.

"You will see to it now, of course"--his manner became brisk, almost
businesslike--"that I, as a factor, am eliminated here? That, I may
conclude, is your intention?"

"Perhaps," said the girl, a sibyl for intentness now, "you would prefer
to go? To be asked to! You would find the streets"--with swift
discerning contempt--"more profitable for your purpose than here, where
you are known."

"Perhaps," assented Mr. Heatherbloom. He spoke quite airily; then
suddenly stiffened.

At his words, the sight of him as he uttered them, she came abruptly yet
nearer; her breath swept and seemed to scorch his cheek.

"I should think," she said, "you would be ashamed to live!"

"Ashamed?" he began; then stopped. There was no need of speaking further
for she had gone.

CHAPTER VI

PLOT AND COUNTER-PLOT

Mr. Heatherbloom drifted; not "looking for a way", one was forced upon
him. It came to him unexpectedly; chance served him. He would have
thrust it from him but could not. Dur