Dick's face was turned away from her. It was not at the moment a face she would have recognized. The eyes were contracted: the nostrils quivering: the teeth set. "I'm always at your service, Nancy," he said presently. "Is there anything in the world you want that I can get for you?" "The only thing I want is something you can't get?" "And that is?" "Sheila." "No," Dick said. "I can't get Sheila for you. I'm sorry. I suppose that's the whole answer to you," he went on musingly. "You want something, somebody to mother--to minister to. It doesn't make so much difference what else it is, so long as it's--downtrodden. That's why I've never made more of a hit with you. I've never been downtrodden enough. I didn't need feeding or nursing. I've always sort of cherished the feeling that I liked to be the one creature you didn't have to carry on your back. I thought that to stand behind _you_ was a pretty good stunt, but you've never needed anything yet to fall back on." "I don't think I ever shall," Nancy said. "Not,--not in the way you mean, Dick." "So be it," he said, folding his arms. "But there's still one thing you'll take from me, and that's the thing I've got that you haven't--money. I never have cared much about it before, but now that there are so many things I can't put right for you, I know you won't be selfish enough to deny this one satisfaction. Let me make over to you all the money you need to get you out of your difficulties with the Inn. Let me hand out a good round sum for all these charities of yours. If you knew how everything else in connection with you had conspired to hurt me,--how this being discounted and losing out all around has cut into me, you wouldn't deny me this one privilege. You don't want _me_, you wouldn't take me, but for God's sake, Nancy, take this one thing that I can give you." They had just swung into the lower entrance of the Park, and the big car was speeding silently into the deepening night, low hung with silver stars, and jeweled with soft lights. "You're awfully good to me, Dick," Nancy said, "and I appreciate every word you've been saying. I'd take your money, not for myself, but for the things I'm doing, if I needed it, but I don't, you know." She looked out into the coolness of the evening, lulled by the transition to a region of so much airiness and space, soothed by the soft motion, and the presence of a friend who loved her. The conversation in which she was engaged suddenly became trivial and unimportant to her. She was very tired, and she found herself beginning to rest and relax. "I don't need it," she repeated vaguely. "I've got plenty of money of my own. Over a million, Billy says now. Uncle Elijah left it to me. I didn't want him to, but perhaps it was all for the best." She put her head back against the cushions and shut her eyes. "I'm terribly sleepy," she said, "and as for the Inn--that's making money, too, you know. Last month we cleared more than two hundred dollars."