With this complication of his position, he bent his head on his hand as if he were weary. "I don’t know what I’m going to do," he said. "It’s too much for me, I’m afraid." "What’s the matter?" said Fancy solicitously. "Didn’t I work it right? Honest, Frank, I didn’t give you away a bit—I didn’t tell him a word. You know my work isn’t lumpy—I just pumped him. I beat him at his own game, and it didn’t taste so good, either. Oh, I’m so sorry if I did anything to hurt you. I’d die first!" As he did not answer her she came over to him and knelt on the floor, seizing his hand. Her tears fell upon it. "You’ve been mighty good to me, Frank, you sure have! You took me off the streets when I was starving. I don’t know whatever would have become of me. I suppose I’d gone right down the line, if it hadn’t been for you. You’re the only friend I’ve got, and I only wish I could do something to prove how grateful I am. Honest, I thought I was helping you out when I kept Vixley here. You don’t think—you don’t think I _like_ him—do you? Don’t say _that_, Frank!" She was speaking in gasps now; her tears were unrestrained. Her hand clutched his so fiercely that he could scarcely bear the pain. He did not dare to look at her. "I’ve always been square with you, Frank, haven’t I?" He patted her hand softly. "We’ve kept to the compact, haven’t we? The compact we made at Alma? You trust me, don’t you?" "Of course! You’re all right—you’re true blue. I couldn’t distrust you. You’ll always be the Maid of Alma. It was a game thing you did for me. Nobody else would have done it. You have helped me, but I can’t tell you what a corner I’m in." He paused and looked at her intensely. "Fancy—you haven’t forgotten—have you?" She forced a trembling smile, as she said bravely: "’No fair falling in love’?" "Yes." She shook out a laugh and stroked his hand, looking up at him through her tears. "Oh, no danger of that, Frank. You don’t know me. I’m all right, sure! Only—and I owe you so much! You’ve taught me everything. If I could only do something to prove that I’m worth it." "You can—that’s the trouble. I believe I’m almost cur enough to ask it of you." "What is it? Tell me, quick! You know I’d black your boots for you. I’d do anything." "Did you notice Miss Payson’s face when she saw you?" "Yes." Fancy dropped her head. "I’d hate to have her suspect—if she thought—" "Oh!" She sprang to her feet and stood as proud as a lioness. "Is that it? You want me to go for good?" Even now there was no anger in her look or tone. The little silver watch heaved up and down on her breast. He sought for a kind phrase. "I’m afraid it would be better—it makes me feel like a beast—of course, you understand—" his eyes went to her, pleading.