ed
on, fussed over, made much of, taken into the high world. Never more to
add up accounts, to stretch five-dollar bills across the chasm of seven
days. An old man's darling!

"No, no, no!" she burst out, passionately. She drew a hand across her
eyes. As if that gesture could rub out an evil thought! It is all very
well to say "Avaunt!" But if the idea will not? "I couldn't, I couldn't!
I'd be a liar and a cheat. But he is so nice! If he did want me!... No,
no! Just for comforts! I couldn't! What a miserable wretch I am!"

She caught up the copper jug and still holding the roses to her heart,
the tears streaming down her cheeks, rushed out to the kitchen for
water. She dropped the green stems into the jug, buried her face in
the buds to cool the hot shame on her cheeks, and remembered--what a
ridiculous thing the mind was!--that she had three shirt waists to iron.
She set the jug on the kitchen table, where it remained for many hours,
and walked over to the range, to the flatiron shelf. As she reached for
a flatiron her hand stopped in midair.

A fat black wallet! Instantly she knew who had placed it there. That
poor Johnny Two-Hawks!

Kitty lifted out the wallet from behind the flatirons. No doubt of it,
Johnny Two-Hawks had placed it there when she had gone to the speaking
tube to summon the janitor. Not knowing if he would ever call for it!
Preferring that she rather than his enemies should have it. And without
a word! What a simple yet amazing hiding place; and but for the need of
a flatiron the wallet would have stayed there until she moved. Left it
there, with the premonition that he was heading into trouble. But
what if they had killed him? How would she have explained the wallet's
presence in her apartment? Good gracious, what an escape!

Without direct consciousness she raised the flap. She saw the edges of
money and documents; but she did not touch anything. There was no
need. She knew it belonged to Johnny Two-Hawks. Of course there was
an appalling attraction. The wallet was, figuratively, begging to be
investigated. But resolutely she closed the flap. Why? Because it was
as though Two-Hawks had placed the wallet in her hands, charging her
to guard it against the day he reclaimed it. There was no outward proof
that the wallet was his. She just knew, that was all.

Still, she examined the outside carefully. In one corner had been
originally a monogram or a crest; effectually obliterated by the
applicat