Swiftly, lightly, she sped up the stairs to the living room. The door was open, and the light from the hall lamp shone dimly into the furthest corner, where, with his back turned to the door, stood, or rather knelt, David Parnes before a desk in which the coffee house proprietor kept his money. Eulie recoiled, shocked, horrified. Then, swift as a lightning stroke came full revelation. He was a thief! She had always suspected something like that. And she loved him—adored him more than ever at this moment! Eulie was an honest girl, an honest peasant girl, descended from a long line of peasants, all as honest as the day. But the world was against the man she loved. Honesty? To the winds with honesty! With a rush she was at his side. “Listen!” she whispered, excitedly. “There is the key. Over there on the wall. The money is in the top drawer. Take it and fly. There is a man below from Hungary looking for you. I told him you did not come here. You can get away before he finds you. I will never tell. I swear I will never tell. Quick! You must fly!” The young man had turned quickly when she entered, but after that he had not moved. He was still upon one knee. Had a thunderbolt fallen from the ceiling he could not have been more astonished. He looked at Eulie in bewilderment. “Wait!” she cried. “I will be back in a second. Open the desk and take all the money, and then I will be back.” It seemed to him but an instant—Eulie had gone and had returned. He was still kneeling—almost petrified with amazement. Eulie held out an old, stained, leather pocketbook. “It is all mine,” she whispered. “Take it. Run! You must not wait!” Slowly he rose to his feet. Once or twice he passed his hand over his eyes as if he feared he was dreaming. “Eulie?” There was a world of incredulity, of bewilderment, of questioning in his voice. “Oh, do not stay!” cried the poor girl. “They will be looking for you. Go, before it is too late. Go far away. They will never find you.” “I do not understand,” he said, slowly. “What does it mean?” A sudden weakness overcame Eulie, and she burst into tears. He advanced toward her. “Why are you doing this?” he asked. Eulie could not speak. Her frame was convulsed with sobbing; the tears were streaming down her cheeks; David, open-mouthed, stood gazing at her. The pocketbook had fallen from her hand, and a small heap of bank notes had slipped from it. David looked at them; then at her. Slowly he advanced to where she stood. As gently as he could he drew her hands from her face and turned her head toward the light in the hall. “Eulie?” The blood coursed to her cheeks. Her gaze fell. She tore herself from his clasp. “For God’s sake, go!” she cried. He restored the money to the pocketbook and placed it in her hands. Then he started toward the door. “You will not take it?” she asked, piteously. “It is all mine. I give it to you freely. Borrow it if you like. Some day you can send it back.”