ts and things," she said,--"if you'll let me come
and live with you--look after you."

She crossed the room and laid her hands heavily on his shoulders;
bent towards him to kiss his lips.

"We should be sick to death of each other in a week," he said, meeting
her eyes.

"No, we shouldn't."

He gazed steadily at her for a moment. "What makes you think I want
any one to live here with me?" he asked curiously.

"I don't know--you do. I saw it the first second I entered the room.
I felt it the first moment you asked me to come up here. You know
you do yourself. You're sick of this--aren't you?"

"You're right there."

She nodded her head sententiously--proud of her perceptive ability.
She wanted to go on saying other things that were just as true,
showing how well she understood him; but she could think of nothing.
Then she made the fatal mistake. She threw a guess at a hazard.

"And you thought when you saw me that I was just the girl you wanted.
I saw that in your face when you turned round."

He smiled. "You've lost the scent," he said, drawing away from her
hands. "Lost it utterly. And why do you want to come and live here?
You're not fond of me. You don't care a rap for me. Are you hard up?"

Pride--self-respect--they are lost qualities in a lost woman. You
must not even look for them. For the moment, she was silent, saying
nothing; but there was no moaning of wounded vanity in the heart of
her. Two questions were weighing out the issue. If she said she were
hard-up, then all opportunity of gaining the chance would be lost.
He would give her money--tell her to go. That would be all. If she
refused to admit it, the opportunity--slight as it had become--would
still be there. Which to do--which course to take? For a perceptible
passing of time she rocked--a weary pendulum of doubt--between the
two. Then she gave it.

"I'm dead broke," she said thickly.

She saw the last hope vanish with that--looked after it with a curl
of bravado on her lip. Lifting her eyes to his, she knew it was gone.
There, in the place of it, was the calculation of what he could
spare--what he should give.

"How much do you want?" he asked.

The question was ludicrous to her. She wanted all she could get. Now
that she had thrown away her chances of the future, her whole mind
concentrated with uncontrolled desire upon the present.

"What's the good of asking me that?" she exclaimed bitterly. "I'll
take what I can get. Reminds me o