"None. I've tried all my friends, but money is so difficult to raise nowadays. No, Peggy," he added with suppressed emotion, "let me go my own way--and try to forget me. Now that I am in disgrace it is only right that I should make a clean breast of it to you, and then you alone will understand why I have made excuse to Lady Teesdale and left." "Oh, you mustn't do that, dear," she urged. "Stay over the week-end! Something will turn up. Do please me by staying." "I feel that I really can't," he answered. "I'm an outsider to have thus brought unhappiness on you, but it is my fault. I am alone to blame. You must have your freedom and forget me. I took the money to pay a debt of honor, thinking that I could repay it by borrowing elsewhere. But I find I can't, therefore I must face the music next week. Even if I ran away I should soon be found and arrested." "Poor boy!" sighed the girl, stroking his cheek tenderly, while in her eyes showed the light of unshed tears. "Don't worry. Stay here with me--at least till Monday." But he shook his head sadly. "I couldn't bear it, my darling," he answered in a low voice. "How can I possibly enjoy dancing and fun when I know that in a few days I shall go to prison in disgrace. My firm are not the kind of people to let me off." "Four thousand five hundred!" the girl repeated as though to herself. "Yes. And I haven't the slightest prospect of getting it anywhere. If I could only borrow it I could sail along into smooth waters again. But that is quite out of the question." Peggy remained silent for a few moments. Then, of a sudden, she looked straight into her lover's eyes, and taking his hand in hers said: "Poor dear! What can I do to help you?" "Nothing," was his low reply. "Only--only forget me. That's all. You can't marry a man who's been to prison." Again a silence fell between them, while the dead leaves whirled along the path. "But you will stay here over the week-end, won't you, dear?" she urged. "I ask you to do so. Do not refuse me--will you?" He tried to excuse himself. But she clung to him and kissed him, declaring that at least they might spend the week-end together before he left to face the worst. Her lover endeavored to point out the impossibility of their marriage, but she remained inexorable. "I still love you, Charlie--even though you are in such dire straits. And I do not intend that you shall go back to London to brood over your misfortune. Keep a stout heart, dear, and something may turn up after all," she added, as they turned and went slowly back over the rustling leaves towards the park. He now realized that she loved him with a strong and fervent affection, even though he had confessed to her his offense. And that knowledge caused his burden of apprehension the harder to bear.