As Flint waited in the drawing-room, he was dimly conscious of the perfume from the roses in the jar on the piano, conscious too that he was standing on the very spot where he had kissed Winifred's hand yesterday. Was it really only yesterday? It seemed an age ago. The spell was broken by the sound of a light step on the stair, and the appearance of Winifred herself in the doorway,--Winifred in her gown of soft gray silk, with a bunch of his roses at her belt,--Winifred as he had never seen her before, with the gladness of unrestrained welcome in her eyes, with shy words of love almost trembling on her lips. Flint started forward, then thought of the girl behind the closed door, and hesitated. Surely they could postpone happiness for a time to bind up the bruises of that foolish wayfarer who was none the less to be pitied that her wounds were self-inflicted. Winifred's quick perception took in at once the agitation of his face and manner. "You are in trouble!" she said, coming close to him with swift sympathy. "Yes, in trouble and in perplexity. I have come to you for help." "I am glad you have come to me," the girl said simply, and stood with uplifted eyes waiting for him to go on. "Don't look at me like that," Flint cried out; "when you do I can think of nothing but you, and to-night we must both think about some one else." "Who is it? What is it? Tell me from the beginning." Flint was profoundly moved by the instant putting aside of all thoughts of self in the desire to be of service. "How dared I ask her to marry me?" he thought. Aloud he said: "Listen, Winifred, and know that I am trying to tell you the white truth without reserve or evasion. I come to you because you are the only person who will need no explanation of the past, to unravel the evil of the present. I went with Brady this evening to a meeting of the Salvation Army at a slum post down on Berry Hill, where Nora Costello was to speak--" "Oh, why didn't you let me go too?" "You shall go if you like sometime; but I am glad you were not there to-night, for there was a fire, and something near a panic--" Winifred turned white and moved nearer to him. "Don't be alarmed!" he said; "nothing happened. The fire was soon put out, and people settled back in their seats. But I grew restless, and concluded not to wait for Brady; so I started to walk up alone--" "Alone?" echoed Winifred, "through that quarter! Why, Nora says it is as bad as Whitechapel." "Perhaps," said Flint, with a nervous laugh; "but my walk was entirely uneventful till I reached our own highly respectable part of the city. As I was turning into Fifth Avenue, out of one of the side streets above Washington Square, I saw a girl looking up at the houses. As I came along she stopped to speak to me, and to my amazement I found it was Tilly Marsden." "_Tilly Marsden?_"