“It’s—­it’s inexpressibly horrible!” the girl cried, twisting her hands together.

“Furthermore,” argued the little man, purposefully unresponsive, “he probably thinks himself forced to seem insistent by the part he’s playing.  His father doesn’t know of this entanglement; he’d disinherit Bayard if he did; naturally, Bayard wouldn’t dare to seem reluctant to hasten matters, for fear of rousing the old man’s suspicions.”

“It may be so,” she responded vacantly, in the confusion of adjusting her vision of life to this new and blinding light....

“Tell me,” he suggested presently, stammering—­“if you don’t mind giving me more of your confidence—­to which I don’t pretend to have any right—­only my interest in—­in you—­the mystery with which you surround yourself—­living alone there in that wretched boarding-house—­”

He broke off with a brief uneasy laugh:  “I don’t seem to get anywhere....  My fear lest you think me presumptuous—­”

“Don’t fear that for another instant—­please!” she begged earnestly; and swinging to face him again, gave him an impulsive hand.  “I’m so grateful to you for—­for what you’ve saved me from—­”

“Then...”  Self-distrustful, he retained her fingers only transiently.  “Then why not tell me—­everything.  If I understood, I might be able to offer some suggestions—­to save you further distress—­”

“Oh, no; you can’t do that,” she interrupted.  “If what you’ve said is true, I—­I shall simply continue to live by myself.”

“You don’t mean you would go back to Thirty-eighth Street?”

“No,” she said thoughtfully, “I’m—­I don’t mean that.”

“You’re right,” he assured her.  “It’s no place for you.”

“That wasn’t meant to be permanent,” she explained—­“merely an experiment.  I went there for two reasons:  to be rid for a while of their incessant attempts to hasten my marriage with Bayard; and because I suddenly realised I knew nothing about my father’s estate, and found I was to know nothing for another year—­that is, until, under his will, I come into my fortune.  Old Mr. Shaynon would tell me nothing—­treated me as though I were still a child.  Moreover I had grown deeply interested in the way our girls were treated; I wanted to know about them—­to be sure they were given a fair chance—­earned enough to live decently—­and other things about their lives—­you can imagine....”

“I think I understand,” said P. Sybarite gravely.

“I had warned them more than once I’d run away if they didn’t let me alone....  You see, Mr. Shaynon insisted it was my father’s wish that I should marry Bayard, and on that understanding I promised to marry him when I came into possession of the estate.  But that didn’t suit—­or rather, it seemed to satisfy them only for a little time.  Very soon they were pestering me again to marry at once.  I couldn’t see the need—­and finally I kept my word and ran away—­took my room in Thirty-eighth Street, and before long secured work in my own store.  At first I was sure they’d identify me immediately; but somehow no one seemed to suspect me, and I stayed on, keeping my eyes open and collecting evidence of a system of mismanagement and oppression—­but I can’t talk about that calmly—­”