e bit of
paper into the gutter. Then he took out his watch. "Half-past nine.
You have just time to catch the night train for South East."

The girl's face fell. "I'm not going to South East," she said
sullenly. "I wrote Pa that I was going off for Thanksgiving, with a
friend from Boxbury."

"Then why not go back to Boxbury? That's still an easier trip, and I
can let you have the money."

Flint's tone, which was always low, had dropped still deeper; but the
earnestness of his manner made itself felt, and a casual passer-by,
catching the word "money," slowed up his walk, and turned his head for
an instant's inspection of the couple. Flint raged inwardly at the
vulgarity of the situation thus thrust upon him. To his companion,
however, the glance of the passer-by conveyed nothing more than a
recognition of her good looks, to which she was not averse. She stood
still a moment, rubbing her ringed and ungloved hand back and forward
over the sanded iron imitation brownstone fence by which she had
paused. Then, as Flint, feeling the conspicuousness of their
stationary attitude, made a movement to walk on, she broke out with a
note of genuine feeling,--

"It's no question of money. I came away because I couldn't stand it
any longer. I wanted so to see you and to tell you what a lot I cared
about you, and I thought perhaps--"

"Don't go on!" said Flint, a trifle sternly. "You are a silly little
fool; but you ought to know better than to say things like that to a
man who never did and never could care anything for you."

"Then you despise me and my love!" said Tilly, with passion half real,
half premeditated for effect. She had rehearsed this scene many times
in her own mind.

"Despise you? Not I," Flint answered; "and as for your love, a real,
genuine affection is about the last thing in the world to be despised.
Whether it is returned or not, it does not matter; and besides," here
Flint paused a minute and then went on, "in that I have much sympathy
with you, for I too love some one who has refused to marry me."

It was with a sense of inward surprise that Flint heard himself
revealing the secrets of his inmost heart to this tawdry young girl;
but Brady's words were ringing in his ears: "I think I would try to
help save a soul, if I had to take off my kid gloves or even go down
in the gutter to do it."

Tilly Marsden had not enough nobleness of nature to take in the spirit
of his confidence. To her his words implied