"I can struggle along. After all, it was an
accident."

"A very unfortunate one," said Hay, more heartily than usual. "I shall
never forgive myself. Is your arm all right?"

"Oh, much better. I'll be quite cured in a week or so."

"And meantime how do you live?"

"I manage to get along," replied Paul, reservedly. He did not wish to
reveal the nakedness of the land to such a doubtful acquaintance.

"You are a hard-hearted sort of chap," said Hay coldly, but rather
annoyed at his friendly advances being flouted. "Well, then, if you
won't accept a loan, let me help you in another way. Come and dine at my
rooms. I have a young publisher coming also, and if you meet him he will
be able to do something for you. He's under obligations to me, and you
may be certain I'll use all my influence in your favor. Come now--next
Tuesday--that's a week off--you can't have any engagement at such a long
notice."

Paul smiled. "I never do have any engagements," he said with his boyish
smile, "thank you. I'll look in if I can. But I am in trouble,
Grexon--very great trouble."

"You shouldn't be," said Hay, smiling. "I know well enough why you will
not accept my loan. The papers say Sylvia, your Dulcinea, has inherited
a million. You are to marry her. Unless," said Hay, suddenly, "this
access of wealth has turned her head and she has thrown you over. Is she
that sort of girl?"

"No," said Paul quietly, "she is as true to me as I am to her. But you
are mistaken as to the million. It is five thousand a year, and she may
not even inherit that."

"What do you mean?"

"I am not at liberty to say. But with regard to your dinner," added
Paul, hastily changing the conversation, "I'll come if I can get my
dress-suit out of pawn."

"Then I count on you," said Hay, blandly, "though you will not let me
help you to obtain the suit. However, this publisher will do a lot for
you. By Jove, what a good-looking girl."

He said this under his breath. Miss Maud Krill appeared on the doorstep
where the two young men stood and stumbled against Grexon in passing.
His hat was off at once, and he apologized profusely. Miss Krill, who
seemed a young woman of few words, as Paul thought from her silence in
the office, smiled and bowed, but passed on, without saying a "thank
you." Mrs. Krill followed, escorted by the treacherous Pash who was all
smiles and hand-washings and bows. Apparently he was quite convinced
that the widow's story was true, and Paul