fervently.

"I wish we could be just as honest with Britt. But we both know what
kind of a man he is. The sentiment of 'Love, and the world well lost' is
better in a book than it is in this bank just now, as matters stand with
us. I have had so many hard knocks in life that I know what they mean,
and I want to save you from them. Isn't it best to go along as we
are for a little while, till I can see my way to get my feet placed
somewhere else?"

"We must do so, Frank--for the time being." Her candor matched his. "I
do need this employment for the sake of my folks. Both of us must be
fair to ourselves--not silly. Only--"

Her forehead wrinkled again.

"I know, Vona! Britt's attentions! I'll take it on myself--"

"No," she broke in, with dignity. "I must make that my own affair.
It can be easily settled. It's pure folly on his part. I'll make him
understand it when I talk with him this afternoon."

"But I'll feel like a coward," he protested, passionately.

She put up her hand and smiled. "You're not a coward, dear! Nor am I a
hypocrite. We're just two poor toilers who must do the best we can till
the clouds clear away."

She went to him, and when her hands caressed his cheeks he bent down and
kissed her.

Then they applied themselves to their tasks in Mr. Britt's bank.

CHAPTER IV

THE ACHE OF RAPPED KNUCKLES

Landlord Files set forth a boiled dinner that day; he skinched on corned
beef and made up on cabbage; but he economized on fuel, and the cabbage
was underdone.

Mr. Britt, back in his office, allowing his various affairs to be
digested--his dinner, his political project, the valentine--his hopes
in general--found that soggy cabbage to be a particularly tough
proposition. He was not sufficiently imaginative to view his punishment
by the intractable cabbage as a premonitory hint that he was destined to
suffer as much in his pride as he did in his stomach. His pangs took his
mind off the other affairs. He was pallid and his lips were blue when
Emissary Orne came waddling into the office.

Mr. Orne, in addition to other characteristics that suggested a
fowl, had a sagging dewlap, and the February nip had colored it into
resemblance to a rooster's wattles. When he came in Mr. Orne's face was
sagging, in general. It was a countenance that was already ridged into
an expression of sympathy. When he set eyes on Britt the expression of
woe was touched up with alarm. But that the alarm had to do with th