“Not afraid!” Jack declared stoutly. “Prove it any way you say!” She gazed at him in amused skepticism--yet a most alluring smile on her young face. “Oh, no, you wouldn’t, Jack. There’s only one way to prove your independence and your love. You know what that is--to drop everything else, and go away with me.” “I’ll do it to-night!” he cried. “Say, listen, Nina,--know a li’l’ place up in Adirondacks--nice, quiet li’l’ place--” “No, thanks,” she interrupted. “If you took me off into hiding, that wouldn’t prove anything. Besides, I want to be where there’s something doing, and where there’s people--you understand, _classy_ people.” “Tha’s all ri’! Make it Newport, Bar Harbor, any ole swell resort you like. I’m no quitter!” “I believe you really are in earnest,” mused Nina, her large eyes upon him. “Sure, I’m earnest! Make it Narragansett Pier--any ole place you like!” She shook her head, and sighed. “You’re awfully good, Jack, but it can’t be done. I’ve no clothes--and those places take clothes--and clothes, the right sort of clothes, they take money--and I have no money.” “Wha’s money!” Jack laughed. “Tha’s nothing! I got money. I give you a check.” “Really?”--the large, almost childish eyes still upon him. “Yes, you really are in earnest. But one check wouldn’t buy all I need.” “You li’l’ fool--pre’ li’l’ fool,” he cried, patting her cheek, and laughing again. “I can make it one big check.” She shook her head. “I don’t know anything about checks and banks, but I know it would take three.” “All ri’,” he said good-humoredly, tickled by her ignorance. He drew out his pocket check-book. “How much?” “Oh, I don’t know. Couldn’t you just sign your name, and let me fill those spaces when I buy the things?” “Sure. Peter, you always carry ole fountain pen. Lemme have ole fountain pen jus’ one minute.” The pen was handed over. Jack signed three checks and passed them to Nina. She murmured warm thanks, and then looked from them to him, apologetic doubt in her eyes. “A woman’s clothes cost an awful lot, Jack,--more than you guess. Would it be all right if I had to fill these in for perhaps as much as five hundred dollars apiece?” Again Jack laughed. “Sure--you pre’ li’l’ fool!” “You can laugh, but I want to be certain,” she protested. “I don’t want to get in trouble by having people come after me for having passed checks that had no money behind them.” Again Jack laughed. “’S all ri’, Nina. Listen.” He leaned toward her confidentially. “Other day, you know, I’m twenty-five; came into nice li’l’ ole pile money. Soak it away in bank. Since then I buy tha’ nice li’l’ ole car--the car I drive you up here in, Nina--some li’l’ ole car when I turn her loose--nothin’ ever passes her--an’ I draw out li’l’ spendin’ money. Tha’s all.” He snickered once more. “Five hundred--is my check good for tha’--oh, say! Listen, Nina. It’s all down on stubs of my check-book--wha’ I deposit--wha’ I draw out. Look for yourself--tha’ll show you!”