“I know you’re writing to her,” proceeded the frank and simple Sayler, “and I’m sure it’s something foolish. The thing to do is to go and face her. She’s leaving this afternoon.” “To-day!” exclaimed Helm, puzzled. “She said last night she was staying a week.” “She’s leaving--because of you. When a woman thinks highly enough of a man to fly from him, all he needs do to get her is run her down.” “She’s leaving?” said Helm. He began to tear up the paper. “Leaving on my account.” He gave a laugh of relief. “Then it’s all settled, and I don’t need to write.” He tore the paper into little bits and sent them to join the mass of similar little bits in the basket. “Evidently she got her head back this morning--just as I did. I wonder what there is about night time that makes people so excited and----” “And courageous,” said Sayler. “I wish I’d had the daring to do the things the night has urged me to do.” Helm shook his head laughingly. “The night’s insane, the day’s sane,” retorted he. “I went crazy last night, Mr. Sayler. I’ve got so little that I have to skimp to get along at all--and my prospects of any more money are mighty poor, I can tell you.” With a humorous twinkle, “You see, I’m not on your side--the buttered side. I’m on the other side where there isn’t any butter. Anyhow, I’ve no use for a wife--especially such a wife as that sort of a woman would be. And she-- Why, she wouldn’t want me as a husband if I was the last man on earth.” “Nonsense!” said Sayler. “Under all that trumpery flummery she’s just a woman, and wants what any other woman wants--a _man_. And I think, my friend, that you come pretty near to sizing up to that description.” “She don’t want me, nor I her,” insisted Helm. “It was nothing but plain lunacy, my asking her to marry me and her accepting.” Sayler was so astounded that he almost betrayed himself. His eyes sparkled sentimentally, and he gave the younger man a resounding clap on the shoulder. Why, the conquest was as good as made! “She accepted you, Helm, because she wants you. Last night she knew her real mind. By daylight, she’s full of--of all sorts of pitiful fears. Go save her, Helm. Go to her. As soon as she’s told her father, and he begins to fight you, everything’s safe. I know her. She isn’t a quitter, and her father will say things that will make her wild with rage--and with love for you.” By this time neither of these men, drawn together by their many traits of mind and character in common, had the slightest sense of strangeness. They felt like old friends. Helm said: “But _I_ don’t want _her_, Sayler. I’ve got no money for her--no time for her--no place for her.” “You love her--don’t you?” said Sayler audaciously. Helm slowly collapsed into one of his uncouth poses. “You see--you do. That means--what? Why, that you’ve got to have her. A man of your sort is no good with a thing like that unsettled.”