She cut him short with a snap of her ringers. "You don't know me, either ... and I don't know you. That's the gist of the whole thing. If you can ask a strange woman who's done an honest night's work to wait for her money, you can ask a strange man to lend you sixty cents... And, what's more, I'll wait right here until you do!" "Well, wait then!" he flung out, suddenly, as he pocketed the silver. He kicked open the swinging door and gained the dining room. She followed close upon his heels. "Oh, I know your kind!" he heard her spitting out at him. "You're a cheap skate trying to put up a front! But you won't get by with me, not if I know it!... You come through with three dollars or I'll wreck this joint!" A crash followed her harangue. Starratt turned. A tray of Haviland cups and saucers lay in a shattered heap upon the floor. He raised a threatening finger at her. "Will you be good enough to leave this house!" he commanded. She thrust a red-knuckled fist into his face. "Not much I won't!" she defied him, swinging her head back and forth. He fell back sharply. What was he to do? He couldn't kick her out... He heard a chair scraped back noisily upon the hardwood floor of the living room. Presently Hilmer stood at his side. "Let me handle her!" Hilmer said, quietly. Starratt gave a gesture of assent. His guest took one stride toward the obstreperous female. "Get out! Understand?" She stopped the defiant seesawing of her head. "Wot in hell..." she was beginning, but her voice suddenly broke into tearful blubbering. "I'm a poor, lone widder woman--" He took her arm and gave her a significant shove. "Get out!" he repeated, with brief emphasis. She cast a look at him, half despair and half admiration. He pointed to the door. She went. Hilmer laughed and regained the living room. Starratt hesitated. "I guess I'd better pick up the mess," he said, with an attempt at nonchalance. Nobody made any reply. He bent over the litter. Above the faint tinkle of shattered porcelain dropping upon the lacquered tray he heard his wife's voice cloying the air with unpleasant sweetness as she said: "Oh yes, Mr. Hilmer, you were telling us about the time you fought a man with a dirk knife ... for a half loaf of bread." CHAPTER II When the Hilmers left, about half past eleven, Starratt went down to the curb with them, on the pretext of looking at Hilmer's new car. It proved to be a very late and very luxurious model. "Is it insured?" asked Starratt, as he lifted Mrs. Hilmer in. "What a hungry bunch you insurance men are!" Hilmer returned. "You're the fiftieth man that's asked me that." Starratt flushed. The business end of his suggestion had been the last thing in his mind. He managed to voice a commonplace protest, and Hilmer, taking his place at the wheel, said: "Come in and talk it over sometime... Perhaps _you_ can persuade me."