ll upon you, we must see how we can arrange matters. Sorry
you didn't come sooner; I don't want to add to your burdens, Lily, heaven
knows I don't! I never thought of that. I ought to have suspected,
perhaps. However, I will withdraw the case. I'll manage. And the costs ...
well, I'll pay them myself, if necessary, for you, Lily, for you; because
I knew you when you were 'that high' ... no, not quite so small; how old
were you? Thirteen ... and such a little thing, such a dear little wee
thing. Do you remember when I made night and day in your cabin, by just
touching my levers? And then it seems to me that I always knew you: in
Mexico, in India, in South Africa, at the time of the elephants and the
tiny birds. And then later, that other Lily, the London one: the one of
only a few months ago. The one for whom ..." continued Jimmy, in a voice
smothered with emotion. "The Lily of Rathbone Place. The Lily of Gresse
Street. That little toque, which suited you so well and which you
complained of ... you poor little Lily!... You poor silly little thing!
There, go home now and make your mind easy, as far as I'm concerned, Lily.
None of your troubles shall come from me. Besides, as they say, a bad
settlement is better than the best lawsuit. I'm doing it for your sake.
Well, is that all right?"

"Oh, how kind you are!" she said, raising her eyes to him, with a tear in
them. "Why, Jimmy, you're not so bad, after all!"

"Pooh!" said Jimmy, lighting a cigarette. "I'm no better than most, Lily,
and no worse. Flesh and blood, like the rest. And, besides, for you, Lily
... If ever you need me, Lily, if I can be of any use to you ..."

* * * * *

"For me," thought Lily, as she returned home, "for me. Ah, if I had known!
Ah, when I think that he, too, wanted to marry me, what a fool I was!" she
said, with a sigh.

She still felt in her own palm the gentle, manly pressure of Jimmy's hand.
She still heard the kind words with which he had comforted her on the
threshold. Goodness, how happy she would have been with a man like him!
Her ill-will disappeared. He was no longer a cur, that josser, but a
gentleman, rather, a brother, a friend.... And she was proud, also, that
Jimmy, who was so busy and making such a lot of money, had promised to
come and applaud her, one of these evenings, at her theater, at Kleim's
Garden, before his own turn at the Kolossal. Oh, wouldn't she work hard
that night! S