"That is kind of you," said Winifred. "I may have to depend altogether on my own efforts, so I shall need work. I'll write to you for a reference, and perhaps for advice." She had unwittingly told Fowle just what he was eager to know--that she was friendless and alone. He prided himself on understanding the ways of women, and lost no more time in coming to the point. "Listen, now, Winnie," he said, drawing nearer, "I'd like to see you through this worry. Forget it. You can draw down twice or three times the money as a model in Goldberg's Store. I know Goldberg, an' can fix things. An', say, why mope at home evenings? I often get orders for two for the theaters an' vaudeville shows. What about comin' along down-town to-night? A bit of dinner an' a cabaret'd cheer you up after to-day's unpleasantness." Winifred grew scarlet with vexation. The man had always been a repulsive person in her eyes, and, unversed though she was in the world's wiles, she knew instinctively that his present pretensions were merely a cloak for rascality. One should be fair to Winifred, too. Like every other girl, she had pictured the Prince Charming who would come into her life some day. But--Fowle! Her gorge rose. "How dare you follow me here and say such vile things?" she cried hysterically. "What's up now?" said Fowle in mock surprise. "What have I said that you should fly off the trolley in that way?" "I take it that this young lady is telling you to quit," broke in another voice. "Go, now! Go while the going is good." Quietly but firmly elbowing Fowle aside, Rex Carshaw raised his hat and spoke to Winifred. "If this fellow is annoying you he can soon be dealt with," he said. "Do you live near? If so, he can stop right here. I'll occupy his mind till you are out of sight." The discomfited masher was snarling like a vicious cur. The first swift glance that measured the intruder's proportions did not warrant any display of active resentment on his part. Out of the tail of his eye, however, he noticed a policeman approaching on the opposite side of the street. The sight lent a confidence which might have been lacking otherwise. "Why are you buttin' in?" he cried furiously. "This young lady is a friend of mine. I'm tryin' to pull her out of a difficulty, but she's got me all wrong. Anyhow, what business is it of yours?" Fowle's anger was wasted, since Carshaw seemed not to hear. Indeed, why should a chivalrous young man pay heed to Fowle when he could gaze his fill into Winifred's limpid eyes and listen to her tuneful voice? "I am very greatly obliged to you," she was saying, "but I hope Mr. Fowle understands now that I do not desire his company and will not seek to force it on me." "Sure he understands. Don't you, Fowle?" and Carshaw gave the disappointed wooer a look of such manifest purpose that something had to happen quickly. Something did happen. Fowle knew the game was up, and behaved after the manner of his kind.