"You know very well, Miss Douglass, that I only give to charity through the association." "I know," persisted the other, "and I know you give twice as much as all of us put together, but with this poor old fellow it's different. We know all about him, and every one of us in the house has given something. You are the only one that won't, Lloyd, and I had so hoped I could make it tip to fifty dollars." "No." "We need only three dollars now. We can buy that little cigar stand for him for fifty dollars." "No." "And you won't give us just three dollars?" "No." "Well, you give half and I'll give half," said Miss Douglass. "Do you think it's a question of money with me?" Lloyd smiled. Indeed this was a poor argument with which to move Lloyd--Lloyd whose railroad stock alone brought her some fifteen thousand dollars a year. "Well, no; I don't mean that, of course, but, Lloyd, do let us have three dollars, and I can send word to the old chap this very afternoon. It will make him happy for the rest of his life." "No--no--no, not three dollars, nor three cents." Miss Douglass made a gesture of despair. She might have expected that she could not move Lloyd. Once her mind was made up, one might argue with her till one's breath failed. She shook her head at Lloyd and exclaimed, but not ill-naturedly: "Obstinate! Obstinate! Obstinate!" Lloyd put away the hypodermic syringe and the minim-glass in their places in the bag, added a little ice-pick to its contents, and shut the bag with a snap. "Now," she announced, "I'm ready." When Miss Douglass had taken herself away Lloyd settled herself in the place she had vacated, and, stripping the wrappings from the books and magazines she had bought, began to turn the pages, looking at the pictures. But her interest flagged. She tried to read, but soon cast the book from her and leaned back upon the great couch, her hands clasped behind the great bronze-red coils at the back of her head, her dull-blue eyes fixed and vacant. For hours the preceding night she had lain broad awake in her bed, staring at the shifting shadow pictures that the electric lights, shining through the trees down in the square, threw upon the walls and ceiling of her room. She had eaten but little since morning; a growing spirit of unrest had possessed her for the last two days. Now it had reached a head. She could no longer put her thoughts from her.