"You don't trust me, then," said he cheerfully. "Well, perhaps you're
right. But you trust yourself, don't you?"

She moved restlessly, but remained silent.

"You are afraid I might put you in a difficult position?"

"Something like that," she admitted, in a low, embarrassed voice.

"You fear that I expect some return which you do not intend to give?"

She was silent.

"Well, I don't," said he bluntly. "So put your mind at rest. Some day
I'll tell you why I am doing this, but I want you to feel that I ask
nothing of you but my money back with interest, when you can afford to
pay."

"I can't feel that," said she. "You're putting me in your debt--so
heavily that I'd feel I ought to pay anything you asked. But I
couldn't and wouldn't pay."

"Unless you felt like it?" suggested he.

"It's honest for me to warn you that I'm not likely to feel that way."

"There is such a thing as winning a woman's love, isn't there?" said he
jestingly. It was difficult to tell when Stanley Baird was jesting and
when he was in earnest.

"Is that what you expect?" said she gravely.

"If I say yes?"

She lowered her eyes and laughed in an embarrassed way.

He was frankly amused. "You see, you feel that you're in my power. And
you are. So why not make the best of it?" A pause, then he said
abruptly and with a convincing manliness, "I think, Mildred, you can
trust me not to be a beast."

She colored and looked at him with quick contrition. "I'm ashamed of
myself," said she. "Please forget that I said anything. I'll take
what I must, and I'll pay it back as soon as I can. And--thank you,
Stanley." The tears were in her eyes. "If I had anything worth your
taking I'd be glad to give it to you. What vain fools we women are!"

"Aren't you, though!" laughed he. "And now it's all settled--until
you're on the stage, and free, and the money's paid back--WITH
interest. I shall charge you six per cent."

When she first knew him she had not been in the least impressed by what
now seemed to her his finest and rarest trait, for, in those days she
had been as ignorant of the realities of human nature as one who has
never adventured his boat beyond the mouth of the peaceful land-locked
harbor is ignorant of the open sea. But in the hard years she had been
learning--not only from Presbury and General Siddall, but from the cook
and the housemaid, from every creditor, every tradesman, everyone whose
attitude socially toward he