She touched the petals of her daffodils with a pensive finger. "Well, really, you know, I'd quite made up my mind to pretend at first... Women never like to come directly to the point. I thought up a silly excuse--begging for an orphan asylum, to be exact. But I can see that wouldn't go here... And I don't believe you're the least bit interested in orphans." "Why should I be?" he asked, bluntly. She had a dozen arguments that might have won the ordinary man, but she knew it would take more than stock phrases to convince him, so she ignored the challenge. "You see, my husband has decided to go into business ... and ... well, I thought perhaps if you had any insurance ... a stray bit, don't you know, that isn't pledged or spoken for ... it would all be _so_ encouraging!" He smoothed his cheek with an appraising gesture. Against the blond freshness of his skin his mangled thumb stood out vividly. "Why doesn't your husband come to see me himself?" She drew back a trifle, but her recovery was swift. "Oh, he intends to, naturally. I'm just preparing the way... Fred's a perfect dear and all that, but he is a little bit reserved about some things... It would be so much easier for him to ask a favor for some one else... Of course, he'd be perfectly furious if he knew that I had come here. But you understand, Mr. Hilmer, I want to do all I can... I'd make _any_ sacrifice for Fred." She paused to give him a chance to put in a word, but he sat silent. It was plain that he didn't intend to help out her growing embarrassment. "It's all come out of a clear sky," she went on, trailing the fringe of her beaded hand bag across her shoe tops. "He only told me last night... There isn't any use pretending ... he hasn't any capital to work on. And until the premiums begin to come in there'll be office rent and a stenographer's salary piling up ... and our living expenses in the bargain... A friend of his is putting up some money, but I can't imagine it's a whole lot... I'm a little bit upset about it, of course. I wish I could really do something to help him." She knew from his look that he intended to hurl another disconcerting question at her. "Well, if you want to help him, why don't you?" he quizzed. "Why, I ... why, I'm not fit for anything, really," she tried to throw back. "My wife said you were pretty efficient at the Red Cross." "Oh, but that was different!" "Why?" "Well, I can't just explain, but it's easy to do something you ... you..." "Feel you don't have to," he finished for her, ironically. She shrugged petulantly. "What do you want me to do? Solicit insurance?" He smiled. "That's what you're doing now, isn't it?" "Mr. _Hilmer_!" She rose majestically in her seat. He continued to sit, but she was conscious that his eyes were sweeping her from head to foot with frank appraisal. "A pretty woman has a good chance to get by with almost anything she sets her mind on," he said, finally.