"is what Mr. Lavilette says, isn't it?"

He looked at her with twinkling eyes.

"Oh, you needn't think I'm being scared into it," he answered. "All the
same, Lavvy's right enough. No one man has the right to accept large
subscriptions and not let the public into his confidence."

"Lavilette doesn't believe in our anonymous subscriptions, does he?" she
asked.

"No! He's rather impudent about that, isn't he? I suppose I ought
really to set him right. I should have done so before, but he went
about it in such an offensive manner. Well, to go on with what I was
saying. You will come on the council, Mary?"

"I? Oh, surely not!"

"You will! And, what is more, I am going to split all the branches up
into divisions, and appoint superintendents and manageresses, at a
reasonable salary. And you," he concluded, "are going to be one of the
latter."

She shook her head firmly.

"No! I must remain my own mistress."

"Why not? I want to allot to you the work where you can do most good.
You know more about it than any one. There is no one half so suitable.
I want you to throw up your other work come into this altogether, be my
right hand, and let me feel that I have one person on the council whom I
can rely upon."

She was silent for a moment. She leaned back in her chair, but even in
the semi-obscurity the extreme pallor of her face troubled him.

"You must remember, too," he said, "that the work will not be so hard as
now. Lately you have given us too much of your time. Indeed, I am not
sure that it is not you who need a holiday more than I."

She raised her eyes.

"This is--what you came to say to me?"

"Yes. I was anxious to get your promise."

There was another short silence. Then she spoke in dull even tones.

"I must think it over. You want my whole time, and you want to pay me
for it."

"Yes. It is only reasonable, and we can afford it. I should draw a
salary myself if I had not a little of my own."

She raised her eyes once more to his mercilessly, and drew a quick
little breath. Yes, it was there written in his face--the blank utter
indifference of good-fellowship. It was all that he had come to ask
her, it was all that he would ever ask her. Suddenly she felt her heart
throbbing in quick short beats-her cheeks burned. They were alone--even
her little maid had gone out. Why was he so miserably indifferent? She
stumbled to her feet, and suddenly stooping down laid her burning cheeks
against his.

"Ki