t on you?" she demanded, flaring up, and he fixed her
with sullen eyes.

"Never mind," he said. "You know what you've done as well or better than
I do. All I've got to say is that my conscience is clear and we'd better
quit talking while we're friends."

"Yes--friends!" she repeated, and then she stopped and at last she
heaved a sigh. "Well, I don't care," she defended. "You drove me to it.
A woman must protect herself, somehow."

"Well, you can do it," he said, feeling tenderly of his head, and
Virginia flew into a rage.

"I told you I was _sorry_!" she cried, stamping her foot. "Isn't
that enough? I'm sorry, I said!"

"Yes, and I'm sorry," he answered, but his eyes were level and his jaw
jutted out like a crag.

"Sorry for what?" she demanded, and he sprang his trap.

"Sorry I can't go out and hunt for your father."

"Oh," she said, and drooped her head.

"If we could pay for what we've done by just being sorry," he went on
with a ghost of a smile, "we wouldn't be where we are. But you know we
can't, Virginia. I'm sorry for some things myself, and I expect to pay
for them, but I can't stop to do it now."

"But will you go for him--sometime?" she asked, smiling wistfully.
"Then--oh, Wiley; why can't we be friends?" She held out her hands
and he rose up and took them, but with a startled look in his eyes.
"You know that I'm sorry," she said, "and I'm willing to pay, too; if
there's anything that I can do. Can't I help you, Wiley? Isn't there
something I can do to help you pay for your mine? And I'll never
oppose you again--if you'll only go and find my father!"

She raised his hands and put them against her cheek and the quick tears
sprang to his eyes.

"I'll do it," he promised, "just the minute I can go. And--I'll try to
be good to you, Virginia. Won't you give me a kiss, just to show it's
all right? I'm sorry I treated you so rough. But it'll be all right now
and we'll try to be friends again--I wasn't writing to any other girl."

"Oh, weren't you?" she smiled. "Well, I'll kiss you, then--just once.
But somehow, I'm afraid it won't last."

CHAPTER XXVI

THE CALL

The long quarrel was over, they had made up--and kissed--and yet to
Wiley it all seemed unreal. That is, all but the kiss. It was that,
perhaps, which made the rest seem unreal, for it had changed the color
of his life. Before, he had thought in terms of hard fact, but the
kiss put a rainbow in the sky. It roused a great hope, a