She was strongly tempted.  She had no longer any doubt of his wealth.  He was not precisely a hero in appearance, but she had never insisted upon that—­her romance having been always of a practical kind.  She was about to assent—­and to seal her doom—­when she suddenly remembered that all her best clothes were in her mother’s closet, which was larger than hers, and that she could not get them without passing through the room where her parents were asleep.  That ended the discussion.  It was out of the question that she should marry this magnificent stranger in her every-day dress and cotton stockings.  It was equally impossible that she should give that reason to any man.  So she said, with dignity: 

“Mr. Offitt, it is not proper for me to continue this conversation any longer.  You ought to see it ain’t.  I shall be happy to see you to-morrow.”

Offitt descended the ladder, grinding out curses between his set teeth.  A hate, as keen as his passion, for the foolish girl fired him.  “Think,” he hissed, “a man that killed, half an hour ago, the biggest swell in Buffland, to be treated that way by a carpenter’s wench.”  “Wait awhile, Miss; it’ll come my innings.”  He lifted up the ladder, carried it carefully around the house, and leaned it against the wall under the window of the room occupied by Sleeny.

He hurried back to his lodging in Perry Place, where he found Sam Sleeny lying asleep on his bed.  He was not very graciously greeted by his drowsy visitor.

“Why didn’t you stay out all night?” Sam growled.  “Where have you been, anyhow?”

“I’ve been at the variety-show, and it was the boss fraud of the season.”

“You stayed so long you must have liked it.”

“I was waiting to see just how bad a show could be and not spoil.”

“What did you want to see me about tonight?”

“The fact is, I expected to meet a man around at the Varieties who was to go in with us into a big thing.  But he wasn’t there.  I’ll nail him to-morrow, and then we can talk.  It’s big money, Sammy, and no discount.  What would you think of a thousand dollars a month?”

“I’d a heap rather see it than hear you chin about it.  Give me my hammer, and I’ll go home.”

“Why, I took it round to your shop this evening, and I tossed it in through the window.  I meant to throw it upon the table, but it went over, I think from the sound, and dropped on the floor.  You will find it among the shavings, I reckon,”

“Well, I’m off,” said Sam, by way of good-night.

“All right.  Guess I’ll see you to-morrow.”