such. I don't
suppose they _would_ interest a man much."

"Oh, that sort of thing," said Allan relievedly. "I thought you meant
things that had to do with me. If you have plans about me, go ahead, for
you know I can't do anything to stop you--but for heaven's sake, don't
discuss it with me first!"

He spoke carelessly, but the pity of it struck to Phyllis's heart. It
was true, he couldn't stop her. His foolish, adoring little desperate
mother, in her anxiety to have her boy taken good care of, had exposed
him to a cruel risk. Phyllis knew herself to be trustworthy. She knew
that she could no more put her own pleasures before her charge's welfare
than she could steal his watch. Her conscience was New-England rock.
But, oh! suppose Mr. De Guenther had chosen some girl who didn't care,
who would have taken the money and not have done the work! She shivered
at the thought of what Allan had escaped, and caught his hand
impulsively, as she had on that other night of terror.

"Oh, Allan Harrington, I _wouldn't_ do anything I oughtn't to! I know
it's dreadful, having a strange girl wished on you this way, but truly I
mean to be as good as I can, and never in the way or anything! Indeed,
you may trust me! You--you don't mind having me round, do you?"

Allan's cold hand closed kindly on hers. He spoke for the first time as
a well man speaks, quietly, connectedly, and with a little authority.

"The fact that I am married to you does not weigh on me at all, my dear
child," he said. "I shall be dead, you know, this time five years, and
what difference does it make whether I'm married or not? I don't mind
you at all. You seem a very kind and pleasant person. I am sure I can
trust you. Now are you reassured?"

"Oh, _yes_," said Phyllis radiantly, "and you _can_ trust me, and I
_won't_ fuss. All you have to do if I bore you is to look bored. You
can, you know. You don't know how well you do it! And I'll stop. I'm
going to ask Wallis how much of my society you'd better have, if any."

"Why, I don't think a good deal of it would hurt me," he said
indifferently. But he smiled in a quite friendly fashion.

"All right," said Phyllis again brightly. But she fell silent then.
There were two kinds of Allan, she reflected. This kind of Allan, who
was very much more grown-up and wise than she was, and of whom she still
stood a little in awe; and the little-boy Allan who had clung to her in
nervous dread of the dark the other night--whom