Ryder watched her curiously.

“My dear young lady, how you take this matter to heart!”

“Please forgive me,” laughed Shirley, and averting her face to conceal the fact that her eyes were filled with tears.  “It’s my artistic temperament, I suppose.  It’s always getting me into trouble.  It appealed so strongly to my sympathies—­this story of hopeless love between two young people—­with the father of the girl hounded by corrupt politicians and unscrupulous financiers.  It was too much for me.  Ah! ah!  I forgot where I was!”

She leaned against a chair, sick and faint from nervousness, her whole body trembling.  At that moment there was a knock at the library door and Jefferson Ryder appeared.  Not seeing Shirley, whose back was towards him, he advanced to greet his father.

“You told me to come up in five minutes,” he said.  “I just wanted to say—­”

“Miss Green,” said Ryder, Sr., addressing Shirley and ignoring whatever it was that the young man wanted to say, “this is my son Jefferson.  Jeff—­this is Miss Green.”

Jefferson looked in the direction indicated and stood as if rooted to the floor.  He was so surprised that he was struck dumb.  Finally, recovering himself, he exclaimed: 

“Shirley!”

“Yes, Shirley Green, the author,” explained Ryder, Sr., not noticing the note of familiar recognition in his exclamation.

Shirley advanced, and holding out her hand to Jefferson, said demurely: 

“I am very pleased to meet you, Mr. Ryder.”  Then quickly, in an undertone, she added:  “Be careful; don’t betray me!”

Jefferson was so astounded that he did not see the outstretched hand.  All he could do was to stand and stare first at her and then at his father.

“Why don’t you shake hands with her?” said Ryder, Sr., “She won’t bite you.”  Then he added:  “Miss Green is going to do some literary work for me, so we shall see a great deal of her.  It’s too bad you’re going away!” He chuckled at his own pleasantry.

“Father!” blurted out Jefferson, “I came to say that I’ve changed my mind.  You did not want me to go, and I feel I ought to do something to please you.”

“Good boy,” said Ryder pleased.  “Now you’re talking common sense.”  He turned to Shirley, who was getting ready to make her departure:  “Well, Miss Green, we may consider the matter settled.  You undertake the work at the price I named and finish it as soon as you can.  Of course, you will have to consult me a good deal as you go along, so I think it would be better for you to come and stay here while the work is progressing.  Mrs. Ryder can give you a suite of rooms to yourself, where you will be undisturbed and you will have all your material close at hand.  What do you say?”

Shirley was silent for a moment.  She looked first at Ryder and then at his son, and from them her glance went to the little drawer on the left-hand side of the desk.  Then she said quietly: