for being so flippant," she added soberly, "but you see I haven't
got any sympathy left even for myself."

"But for heaven's sake!" cried Stanton, "why don't you let somebody
help you? Why don't you let me--"

"Oh, you _can_ help me!" cried the little red-lipped voice excitedly.
"Oh, yes, indeed you can help me! That's why I came here this evening.
You see I've settled up now with every one of my creditors except you
and the youngish Boston lady, and I'm on my way to her house now.
We're reading Oriental Fairy stories together. Truly I think she'll be
very glad indeed to release me from my contract when I offer her my
coral beads instead, because they are dreadfully nice beads, my real,
unpretended grandfather carved them for me himself.... But how can I
settle with you? I haven't got anything left to settle with, and it
might be months and months before I could refund the actual cash
money. So wouldn't you--couldn't you please call my coming here this
evening an equivalent to one week's subscription?"

[Illustration: "Oh! Don't I look--gorgeous!" she stammered]

Wriggling out of the cloak and veil that wrapped her like a
chrysalis she emerged suddenly a glimmering, shimmering little
oriental figure of satin and silver and haunting sandalwood--a
veritable little incandescent rainbow of spangled moonlight and
flaming scarlet and dark purple shadows. Great, heavy, jet-black curls
caught back from her small piquant face by a blazing rhinestone
fillet,--cheeks just a tiny bit over-tinted with rouge and
excitement,--big, red-brown eyes packed full of high lights like a
startled fawn's,--bold in the utter security of her masquerade, yet
scared almost to death by the persistent underlying heart-thump of her
unescapable self-consciousness,--altogether as tantalizing, altogether
as unreal, as a vision out of the Arabian Nights, she stood there
staring quizzically at Stanton.

"_Would_ you call it--an--equivalent? _Would_ you?" she asked
nervously.

Then pirouetting over to the largest mirror in sight she began to
smooth and twist her silken sash into place. Somewhere at wrist or
ankle twittered the jingle of innumerable bangles.

"Oh! Don't I look--gorgeous!" she stammered. "O--h--h!"

VIII

Everything that was discreet and engaged-to-be-married in Stanton's
conservative make-up exploded suddenly into one utterly irresponsible
speech.

"You little witch!" he cried out. "You little beauty! For heaven's
sake