She made a polite protest for the benefit of the servants; but I was firm, and left her free to think things over alone in the drawing-room--“your sitting-room,” I called it, I had not finished a small cigar when there came a timid knock at my door. I threw away the cigar and opened. “I thought it was you,” said I. “I'm familiar with the knocks of all the others. And this was new--like a summer wind tapping with a flower for admission at a closed window.” And I laughed with a little raillery, and she smiled, colored, tried to seem cold and hostile again. “Shall I go with you to your sitting-room?” I went on. “Perhaps the cigar smoke here--” “No, no,” she interrupted; “I don't really mind cigars--and the windows are wide open. Besides, I came for only a moment--just to say--” As she cast about for words to carry her on, I drew up a chair for her. She looked at it uncertainly, seated herself. “When mama was here--this afternoon,” she went on, “she was urging me to--to do what she wished. And after she had used several arguments, she said something I--I've been thinking it over, and it seemed I ought in fairness to tell you.” I waited. “She said: 'In a few days more he'--that meant you--'he will be ruined. He imagines the worst is over for him, when in fact they've only begun.'” “They!” I repeated. “Who are 'they'? The Langdons?” “I think so,” she replied with an effort. “She did not say--I've told you her exact words--as far as I can.” “Well,” said I, “and why didn't you go?” She pressed her lips firmly together. Finally, with a straight look into my eyes, she replied: “I shall not discuss that. You probably misunderstand, but that is your own affair.” “You believed what she said about me, of course,” said I. “I neither believed nor disbelieved,” she answered indifferently, as she rose to go. “It does not interest me.” “Come here,” said I. I waited until she reluctantly joined me at the window. I pointed to the steeple of the church across the way. “You could as easily throw down that steeple by pushing against it with your bare hands,” I said to her, “as 'they,' whoever they are, could put me down. They might take away my money. But if they did, they would only be giving me a lesson that would teach me how more easily to get it back. I am not a bundle of stock certificates or a bag of money. I am--here,” and I tapped my forehead. She forced a faint, scornful smile. She did not wish me to see her belief of what I said. “You may think that is vanity,” I went on. “But you will learn, sooner or later, the difference between boasting and simple statement of fact. You will learn that I do not boast. What I said is no more a boast than for a man with legs to say, 'I can walk.' Because you have known only legless men, you exaggerate the difficulty of walking. It's as easy for me to make money as it is for some people to spend it.”