"He is not the man," continued Miss Tousy, "to blame a girl for a fault of that sort, even in his own mind, and he would not explain at a woman's expense to save his life. With a man of his sort, the girl is to blame nine times out of ten. I wouldn't give a fippenny bit for a man no other girl wanted. There is a large class of women you don't know yet, Rita. You are too young. The world has a batch of mawkish theories about them, but there are also a few very cold facts kept in the dark,--lodge secrets among the sex. Dic is modest, and modesty in an attractive man is dangerous--the most dangerous thing in the world, Rita. Deliver me from a shy, attractive man, unless he cares a great deal for me. Shyness in a man is apt to make a girl bold." "It did not make me bold," said Rita, with a touch of fire. "Not in the least?" asked Miss Tousy, leaning over the girl's lap, looking up into her face and laughing. "Now come, Rita, confess; you're as modest as a girl has any good reason to be, but tell me, didn't you--didn't you do your part? Now confess." "Well, I may have been a little bold, I admit, a very little--just at--you know, just at one time. I _had_ to be a little--just a little--you see--you know, outspoken, or--you know what I mean. He might not have--oh, you understand how such things happen." The hands in the lap were growing very interesting during these remarks, and the tear-stained cheeks were very hot and red. "Yes, yes, dear," said Miss Tousy, leaning forward and kissing the hot cheeks, "yes, yes, sweet one. I know one just _has_ to help them a bit; but that is not boldness, that is charity." "Since I think about it, perhaps I was," murmured Rita. "I know I have often turned hot all over because of several things I did; but I cared so much for him. I was so young and ignorant. That was over two years ago. I cared so much for him and was all bewildered. Nothing seemed real to me during several months of that time. Part of the time it seemed I was in a nightmare, and again, it was like being in heaven. A poor girl is not a responsible being at such times. She doesn't know what she does nor what she wants; but it's all over now. I ... don't ... care anything ... about ... him now. It's all over." Such a mournful little voice you never heard, and such a mournful little face you never saw. Still, it was all over. Miss Tousy softly kissed her and said: "Well, well, we'll straighten it all out. There, don't cry, sweet one." But Rita did cry, and found comfort in resting her head on Miss Tousy's sympathetic bosom.