He could not help smiling. "I have no fear of your gambling again. And I don't fancy you were a bit worse than the others who had no gambling blood in them--all the world has that. Gambling is about the earliest of the vices. I--if--you wouldn't mind promising--I know you will keep it." "Nothing under heaven would induce me to play again. But--but--I opened your safe like a thief and stole--" "Oh, not quite. After all it was yours as much as mine. If I had died without a will you would have got it. "Of course--I know what you mean--but men have always driven women into a corner, and they have had to get out by methods of their own. I wish now I had given you the twenty thousand. I prefer you should accept my decision that it was all my fault. Give me the chain." She drew it from her bosom and handed it to him. He fastened the ruby in its place and threw the chain over her neck. The great jewel lit up the front of her somber gown like a sudden torch in a cavern. The stern despair of Helene's tragic mask relaxed. She dropped her face into her hands and began to sob. Then Ruyler was himself again. He picked her up in his arms and settled comfortably into the deepest of the chairs. THE END End of Project Gutenberg's The Avalanche, by Gertrude Franklin Horn Atherton