ou don't stop."

The young girl had regained her self-control. "It might be the best
ending to the interview," she said, "for I could leave you then to--to
the trusted friend. I don't know what to do now." She clasped her hands
over her face for a second, then dropped them.

"She's dreadfully theatrical, dreadfully," thought Miss Lacey.

"She is broken-hearted," thought Dunham; and pulling himself together
he found his voice.

"My name is Dunham, Miss Lacey," he said, meeting the blue eyes where
the fire had burned out, showing the face so white, so young. "This is
in the day's work for me, and I'm sorry. I am in Judge Trent's office,
and he sent me here with your aunt to represent him."

"My aunt saved a lot of time," rejoined the girl slowly, speaking low.
"She represented them both while I stood there behind the curtain." Her
hands pressed together, and she looked again from one to the other.

"There isn't anything for you to stay for now, is there?" she added,
after a painful silence.

"Why, of course there is!" exclaimed Miss Martha. "We haven't made any
plan at all."

"What plan had you thought of making?"

Miss Martha cleared her throat and looked up at Dunham.

"I--we--wanted to ask what your plans were."

"They're nothing to you, I'm sure," returned the girl.

"Why, they're a great deal to us. You mustn't think Judge Trent and I
don't feel any responsibility of you. We _do_."

The girl's lips quivered into something that tried to be a smile.

"How did you intend to show it before--before you came in here this
morning?"

"Why, we"--Miss Martha cleared her throat again, "we--feel sure, of
course, that--unless your father left you money you--you will want to
find something to do, and we intend to help you find it."

Sylvia looked like a pale flower as she stood there. There rose in
Dunham the involuntary desire to protect that any man who saw her would
have felt.

"And to pay your expenses until you do find it," he added hastily.
"That is Judge Trent's idea," he declared, in a recklessly encouraging
tone. "To pay your expenses so long as you need it."

The girl's quivering smile grew steadier. Her pride stiffened under
this man's regard.

"Where?" she asked, with self-possession. "Not at the Touraine,
probably."

It was like a downward jerk on a balloon. Dunham suddenly remembered
the memoranda and his employer's shaggy gaze.

"At the Young Women's Christian Association," he replied
apo