"What a toff he is!" said Lizzie. His appearance and what it symbolized--an evening in a boudoir or at the gaming-table--jarred on Frank, suggesting as it did a difference in condition from that of the wretched girl he had abandoned; and as Mike prided himself that scandalous stories never followed upon his loves, the unearthing of this mean and obscure liaison annoyed him exceedingly. Above all, the accusation of paternity was disagreeable; but determined to avoid a quarrel, he was about to pass by, when Frank noticed Lady Helen's pocket-handkerchief sticking out of his pocket. "You blackguard," he said, "you are taking that handkerchief to a gambling hell." Then realizing that the game was up, he turned and would have struck his friend had not Lizzie interposed. She threw herself between the men, and called a policeman, and the quarrel ended in Mike's dismissal from the staff of the _Pilgrim_. Frank had therefore to sit up writing till one o'clock, for the whole task of bringing out the paper was thrown upon him. Lizzie sat by him sewing. Noticing how pale and tired he looked, she got up, and putting her arm about his neck, said-- "Poor old man, you are tired; you had better come to bed." He took her in his arms affectionately, and talked to her. "If you were always as kind and as nice as you are to-night ... I could love you." "I thought you did love me." "So I do; you will never know how much." They were close together, and the pure darkness seemed to separate them from all worldly influences. "If you would be a good girl, and think only of him who loves you very dearly." "Ah, if I only had met you first!" "It would have made no difference, you'd have only been saying this to some one else." "Oh, no; if you had known me before I went wrong." "Was he the first?" "Yes; I would have been an honest little girl, trying to make you comfortable." Throwing himself on his back, Frank argued prosaically-- "Then you mean to say you really care about me more than any one else?" She assured him that she did; and again and again the temptations of women were discussed. He could not sleep, and stretched at length on his back, he held Lizzie's hand. She was in a communicative humour, and told him the story of the waiter, whom she described as being "a fellow like Mike, who made love to every woman." She told him of three or four other fellows, whose rooms she used to go to. They made her drink; she didn't like the beastly stuff; and then she didn't know what she did. There were stories of the landlady in whose house she lodged, and the woman who lived up-stairs. She had two fellows; one she called Squeaker--she didn't care for him; and another called Harry, and she did care for him; but the landlady's daughter called him a s----, because he seldom gave her anything, and always had a bath in the morning.