en if you screwed
yourself up to the point of offering it."

He glanced up quickly and guiltily. "Why not?" he said.
"You'd be practically my wife. I can trust you. You've had
experience, so you can't blame me for hesitating. Money puts
the devil in anybody who gets it--man or woman. But I'll
trust you----" he laughed--"since I've got to."

"No. The most I'd take would be a salary. I'd be a sort
of companion."

"Anything you like," cried he. This last suspicion born of a
life of intimate dealings with his fellow-beings took flight.
"It'd have to be a big salary because you'd have to dress and
act the part. What do you say? Is it a go?"

"Oh, I can't decide now."

"When?"

She reflected. "I can tell you in a week."

He hesitated, said, "All right--a week."

She rose to go. "I've warned you the chances are against my
accepting."

"That's because you haven't looked the ground over," replied
he, rising. Then, after a nervous moment, "Is the--is the----"
He stopped short.

"Go on," said she. "We must be frank with each other."

"If the idea of living with me is--is disagreeable----" And
again he stopped, greatly embarrassed--an amazing indication
of the state of mind of such a man as he--of the depth of his
infatuation, of his respect, of his new-sprung awe of
conventionality.

"I hadn't given it a thought," replied she. "Women are not
especially sensitive about that sort of thing."

"They're supposed to be. And I rather thought you were."

She laughed mockingly. "No more than other women," said she.
"Look how they marry for a home--or money--or social
position--and such men! And look how they live with men year
after year, hating them. Men never could do that."

"Don't you believe it," replied he. "They can, and they do.
The kept man--in and out of marriage--is quite a feature of
life in our chaste little village."

Susan looked amused. "Well--why not?" said she. "Everybody's
simply got to have money nowadays."

"And working for it is slow and mighty uncertain."

Her face clouded. She was seeing the sad wretched past from
filthy tenement to foul workshop. She said:

"Where shall I send you word?"

"I've an apartment at Sherry's now."

"Then--a week from today."

She put out her hand. He took it, and she marveled as she
felt a tremor in that steady hand of his. But his voice was
resolutely careless as he said, "So long. Don't forget how
much I want or need you. A