“Weeks wrote me you had squared my account with him,” he said, awkwardly.  “I’m tremendously obliged, of course, and—­I’ll give this to you instead of him.”  He offered her the envelope with his pay enclosed.

“Don’t be silly, Kirk,” she said, in a matter-of-fact tone.  “I didn’t wish Weeks to have any opportunity to talk.  You need this money and I don’t.”

“Perhaps I should have offered it to Mr. Cortlandt.”

“Stephen knows nothing about the Weeks affair.  If you choose to regard my little favor as a debt, however, please let it run on until you are better able to pay.”

But Anthony remained inflexible, and at last she accepted his proffer with some impatience.

“You are the most foolish person I ever knew,” she remarked.  “Can’t you understand that such obligations don’t exist between friends?  A few dollars mean nothing.”

“A few dollars mean a good deal to me just now.”

“You have the most disappointing way of receiving favors.  I had a decent position for you, but you would go to collecting fares.  I hope you have had enough of it by now, and are ready to take something worth while.”

“Not until it comes naturally.  No hop-skip-and-jump for mine.”

Edith sighed.  “It is terribly dull for me here at present,” she said.  “Mr. Cortlandt is very busy; I have no one to talk to; no one to amuse me.  Why, I’ve scarcely seen you since you went to work.”

“It is flattering to be missed.”

“Will you come to the dance to-morrow night?”

He shook his head.

“The music is good; you will meet some nice people.  If you remember, one of your qualifications for a position was that you are a good waltzer.”

“I can’t mingle with the ‘quality.’”

“Be sensible.  This is an invitation.”

“I am getting sensible fast.  I’ve learned something about Canal conditions.  What would people say if Mrs. Stephen Cortlandt were seen dancing with the new collector of No. 2?”

“My dear boy, do you suppose Mrs. Stephen Cortlandt cares what these people say?”

“Mr. Stephen Cortlandt might.”

“Mr. Stephen Cortlandt isn’t snobbish, either.”

“One has to be on the Canal Zone.  Besides, to tell the sordid truth, I haven’t any clothes.”

Edith silently extended the envelope in her hand; but he laughed.

“Perhaps I’ll come to the next dance.  I’ll be rich then.  See!” He showed her a long slip of paper consisting of five coupons, each numbered “8838.”

“Lottery tickets!”

He nodded.  “Allan had a very particular dream about the number eight, so I invested five dollars ‘silver’ on his hunch.  You know he has the most wonderful dreams.  There was one about a whale—­it was appallingly vivid.”

“But you don’t bet on all these miraculous whales and things?”

“Oh no.  The whale was a little too much for me.  But I thought I’d take a chance on the number eight, it didn’t seem quite so apocryphal.”