Arline gave an inarticulate snort, bent her scrawny body nearly double, and reached frankly into her stocking. She fumbled there a moment and straightened triumphantly, grasping a flat, buckskin bag. “I'd feel like shakin' you if you went to anybody else but me,” she declared, untying the bag. “I know what men is--Lord knows I see enough of 'em and their meanness--and if I can help a woman outa the clutches of one, I'm tickled to death to git the chancet. I ain't sayin' they're all of 'em bad--I c'n afford to give the devil his due and still say that men is the limit. The good ones is so durn scarce it ain't one woman in fifty lucky enough to git one. All I blame you for is stayin' with him as long as you have. I'd of quit long ago; I was beginnin' to think you never would come to your senses. But you had to fight that thing out for yourself; every woman has to. “I'm glad you've woke up to the fact that Man Fleetwood didn't git a deed to you, body and soul, when he married you; you've been actin' as if you thought he had. And I'm glad you've got sense enough to pull outa the game when you know the best you can expect is the worst of it. There ain't no hope for Man Fleetwood; I seen that when he went back to drinkin' again after you was burnt out. I did think that would steady him down, but he ain't the kind that braces up when trouble hits him--he's the sort that stays down ruther than go to the trouble of gittin' up. He's hopeless now as a rotten egg, and has been for the last year. Here; you take the hull works, and if you need more, I can easy git it for you by sendin' in to the bank.” “Oh, but this is too much!” Val protested when she had counted the money. “You're so good--but really and truly, I won't need half--” Arline pushed away the proffered money impatiently. “How'n time are you goin' to tell how much you'll need? Lemme tell you, Val Peyson--I ain't goin' to call you by his name no more, the dirty cur!--I've been packin' that money in my stockin' for six months, jest so'st to have it handy when you wanted it. Divorces cost more'n marriage licenses, as you'll find out when you git started. And--” “You--why, the idea!” Val pursed her lips with something like her old spirit. “How could _you_ know I'd need to borrow money? I didn't know it myself, even. I--”