llor over the roofs
opposite, where day was breaking.

"Will you--come in?"

He had prepared to take his leave; he hesitated.

"I think I will," he said. "I'd like to see you with your face
washed."

Her room was small, very plain, very neat. On the bed lay folded a
white night gown; a pair of knitted pink slippers stood close
together on the floor beside it. There was a cheap curtain across
the alcove; she drew it, turned, looked at him; and slowly her oval
face crimsoned.

"You needn't wash your face," he said very gently.

She crept into the depths of a big arm-chair and lay back watching
him with inscrutable eyes.

He did not disturb her for a while. After a few moments he got up
and walked slowly about, examining the few inexpensive ornaments on
wall and mantel; turned over the pages of an album, glanced at a
newspaper beside it, then came back and stood beside her chair.

"Letty?"

She opened her eyes.

"I suppose that this isn't the--first time."

"No."

"It's not far from it, though." She was silent, but her eyes
dropped.

He sat down on the padded arm of the chair.

"Do you know how much money I've made this week?" he said gaily.

She looked up at him, surprised, and shook her head; but her velvet
eyes grew wide when he told her.

"I won it fairly," he said. "And I'm going to stake it all on one
last bet."

[Illustration: "I won it fairly, and I'm going to stake it all on
one last bet."]

"On--what?"

"On--_you_. Now, _what_ do you think of that, you funny little
thing?"

"How--do you mean, Mr. Berkley?" He looked down into the eyes of a
hurt child.

"It goes into the bank in your name--if you say so."

"For--what?"

"I don't know," he said serenely, "but I am betting it will go for
rent, and board, and things a girl needs--_when she has no man to
ask them of--and nothing to pay for them_."

"You mean no man---excepting--you?"

"No," he said wearily, "I'm not trying to buy you."

She crimsoned. "I thought--then why do you----"

"Why? Good God, child! _I_ don't know! How do I know why I do
anything? I've enough left for my journey. Take this and try to
behave yourself if you can--in the Canterbury and out of it! . . .
And buy a new lock for that door of yours. Good night."

She sprang up and laid a detaining hand on his sleeve as he reached
the hallway.

"Mr. Berkley! I--I can't----"

He said, smiling: "My manners are really better than that----"

"I