Charley, lifting heavy arms to take off her hat, seemed not to hear. She looked at herself in the mirror a moment--stared at the tear-stained red-eyed girl. At what she saw she began to sob again, weakly. Then she shook herself angrily, and pushed her hair back from her forehead with a hand that was closed into a fist. She went into the living room, stood before her father reading there. "Dad." He looked up from his paper; stiffened. "Why, Charley, what's----" Charley almost never cried. He was as disturbed as if this had been a man standing there before him, red-eyed and shaken. "Listen, Dad. You know that thing Ben Gartz spoke to you about a little while ago? The business. Taking you into it, I mean?" "That? Yes. What of it?" "He hasn't said anything lately, has he?" "Well, he--he--wasn't sure, you know. I thought at the time it was a little wild. Ben's good-hearted, but he's a gabby boy. Doesn't mean quite all he says." "He meant it all right, Dad. But you see he--he'd like to have me marry him first." He stared, half willing to laugh if she gave him any encouragement. But she did not. His newspaper came down with a crash, then, as his fingers crushed it and threw it to the floor. "Gartz! You marry Ben Gartz!" She was crying again, helplessly. His two hands gripped her shoulders. "Why, the damned old l----" he stopped himself, shaking a little. "That's it," said Charley, and she was smiling as she sobbed. "That's the word.... I knew I could count on you, Dad. I knew." His arms were about her. Her face was pressed against the good rough cloth of his coat. "Sh-sh-sh Charley. Don't let your mother hear you. We mustn't let her know. She'd be wild. He's coming here to dinner, the oily old fox. Gosh, Charley, are you sure you----" "I'm sure." "We won't say anything to mother, will we?" "No, Dad." "She'd be sick, that's what. Sick. We'll fix him and his business, all right." "Yes. Talk about Jesse. Talk about Jesse a lot. And make it plain. About Jesse. Then see what he has to say about his business." The doorbell sounded. Charley was out of his arms and off to her room. Belle came swiftly down the hall and darted into her bedroom for a hasty dab at her flushed face with the powder-pad. Henry opened the door. Ben's voice boomed. Henry's answered with hollow geniality. "Come in, come in! Here, let me have that. Belle'll be here in a minute." Belle was there becomingly flushed, cordial. Ben was pressing her hand. "It was mighty nice of you, let me tell you, to call me----" She was panic-stricken but Henry had not heard, apparently. He had interrupted with a foolish remark of his own. "It's probably the last time in this place anyway, Ben. We're giving up this flat, you know. End of the month." "How's that?" "Can't afford it." Ben pursed his lips, drummed with his fingers on the arm of the deep comfortable chair. "Well, now, perhaps----"