“Now,” he continued, leaning forward a trifle toward her languid, half interested figure, “I just want you to think of him as a little boy. He’s only twenty-two. He knows nothing of the world. The money you give to the poor doesn’t come so hard perhaps as this will. It’s a big sacrifice, but I want you to let the boy go.” She smiled slightly, found her handkerchief, which was tucked up the cuff of her blouse, pressed the little bit of linen to her lips as though to steady them, then she asked abruptly: “What has he said to you?” “Lord!” Ruggles groaned. “_Said_ to me! My dear young lady, he is much too rude to speak. Dan sort of breathes and snorts around like a lunatic. He was dangling around that duchess when I was here before, but she didn’t scare me any.” And Letty Lane, now smiling at him, relieved by his break from a more intense tone, asked: “Now, you are scared?” “Well,” Ruggles drawled, “I was pretty sure that woman didn’t _care_ anything for the boy. Are you her kind?” It was the best stroke he had made. She almost sprang up from her chair. “Heavens,” she exclaimed, “I guess I’m not!” Her face flushed. “I had rather see a son of mine dead than married to a woman like that,” he said. “Why, Mr. Ruggles,” she exclaimed passionately, addressing him with interest for the first time, “what do you know about me? What? What? You have seen me dance and heard me sing.” And he interrupted her. “Ten times, and you are a bully dancer and a bully singer, but you do other things than dance and sing. There is not a man living that would want to have his mother dress that way.” She controlled a smile. “Never mind that. People’s opinions are very different about that sort of thing. You have seen me at dinner with your boy, as you call him, and you can’t say that I did anything but ask him to help the poor. I haven’t led Dan on. I have tried to show him just what you are making me go through now.” If she acted well and danced well, it was hard for her to talk. She was evidently under strong emotion and it needed her control not to burst into tears and lose her chance. “Of course, I know the things you have heard. Of course, I know what is said about me”—and she stopped. Ruggles didn’t press her any further; he didn’t ask her if the things were true. Looking at her as he did, watching her as he did, there was in him a feeling so new, so troubling that he found himself more anxious to protect her than to bring her to justice. “There are worse, far worse women than I am, Mr. Ruggles. I will never do Dan any harm.” Here her visitor leaned forward and put one of his big hands lightly over one of hers, patted it a moment, and said: “I want you to do a great deal better than that.” She had picked up a photograph off the table, a pretty picture of herself in _Mandalay_, and turned it nervously between her fingers as she said with irritation: