"Toddle along!" said Blanche. "You're foolish," he muttered. The black eyes flashed on him. "That's for me to say!" Pen thought with rising hope: "She's beginning to accept me." "Wait a minute," said Blanche. "I'll satisfy you." To Pen she said suddenly: "Put up your hands!" "What for?" stammered Pen. They jeered at her innocence. "Put up your hands!" repeated Blanche. Pen obeyed, and Blanche with flying, practiced hands felt of her all over, while the young man stood by. Blanche nodded reassuringly to the Babe. "I'll wait outside," he said surlily. "Oh, if she wants to mix it up I'll oblige her," said Blanche in her flip way. "Though she is bigger than me." "I'll wait outside," he repeated. "Yes," said Blanche sarcastically, "and have the maid report you to the office as a suspicious character. Go down and read your paper. I'll send a boy for you." He went. Blanche turned mockingly to Pen. "Now, darling!" Pen felt dimly that her flippant mockery concealed a sort of despair. She could admire the little creature's gameness and hardihood, but could not possibly meet her on that ground. It rendered her helpless. Meanwhile Blanche took a fresh cigarette, and called Pen's attention to the packet with a jerk of her head. Pen shook her head. "Well, don't stand there like a wax-work in a store-window," said Blanche. "Disjoint yourself." Pen sat in an armchair with her back to one of the windows. She groped within herself for something to go on with. But she felt empty. Blanche moved restlessly around the room; plumped herself on the edge of the bed, and jumped up again. She glanced at Pen with increasing irritation. Apparently a silence drove her wild. "You're so different from what I expected," Pen murmured at last, "I scarcely know how to begin." "What did you expect?" queried Blanche. "A singing canary?" "I don't know ... I got the idea from the newspaper that you were in trouble." Blanche stared, then laughed metallically. "Not me!" she said coolly. "I wasn't born yesterday." Pen perceived the nature of the misunderstanding, and blushed. "I mean, I thought you'd lost somebody ... that you cared for." Blanche bared her teeth suddenly like a hurt animal. "Keep off that!" she said sharply. "But that's why I wrote to you." "Say!" cried Blanche, ugly and callous, "if it's only sob-stuff you're after, you come to the wrong shop, see? I don't deal in it! Me, I'm water-tight and nickel-plated!" "Why can't you be natural with me?" murmured Pen. "I am natural. If I wanted to work you for anything, I could turn the wringer till the tub overflowed. I'm famous for it. Real tears without the aid of the glycerine bottle. But you said you wanted to be on the level." "Do I look soft?" challenged Pen. "Don't ask me," said Blanche, refusing to look at her. "I don't get you at all. You're completely outside my experience." Pen tried another line. "Have you been reading the newspapers about the Counsell case?"