all day.

"What do you mean by--practically to give you?"

"The man said lend. But my name is good for even more than you supposed,
since he knows, and I know, that I can offer him no security."

"How can he tell, then, that you'll ever pay it back?"

"He can't tell. That's just it."

"And can you tell?" She let the lump of sugar fall with a circle of tiny
eddies into the cup of tea.

"I can tell--up to a point." His tone indicated some abatement of
enthusiasm.

"Up to what point?"

"Up to the point that I'll pay it back--if I can. That's all he asks. As
a matter of fact, he doesn't seem to care."

She handed him his cup. "Isn't that a very queer way to lend money?"

"Of course it's queer. That's why I'm telling you. That's what makes it
so remarkable--such a--tribute--to me, I dare say that sounds fatuous,
but--"

"It doesn't sound fatuous so much as--"

"So much as what?"

The distress gathering in her eyes prepared him for her next words
before she uttered them.

"Papa, I shouldn't think you'd take it."

He stared at her dully. Her perspicacity disconcerted him. He had
expected to bolster up the ruins of his honor by her delighted
acquiescence. He had not known till now how much he had been counting on
the justification of her relief. It was a proof, however, of the degree
to which his own initiative had failed him that he cowered before her
judgment, with little or no protest.

"I haven't said I'd take it--positively."

"Naturally. Of course you haven't."

He dabbled the spoon uneasily in his tea, looking downcast. "I don't
quite see that," he objected, trying to rally his pluck, "why it should
be--naturally."

"Oh, don't you? To me it's self-evident. We may have lost money, but
we're still not--recipients of alms."

"This wasn't alms. It was four hundred and fifty thousand dollars."

She was plainly awe-struck. "That's a great deal; but I supposed it
would be something large. And yet the magnitude of the sum only makes it
the more impossible to accept."

"Y-es; of course--if you look at it in that way." He put back his cup on
the table untasted.

"Surely it's the only way to look at it? Aren't you going to drink your
tea?"

"No, I think not. I've had enough. I've--I've had enough--of
everything."

He sank back wearily into the depths of his arm-chair. The glitter had
passed from his eyes; he looked ill. He had clearly not enough courage
to make a stand for what he wanted. She coul