Trenor had pushed a chair between herself and the door. He threw himself in it, and leaned back, looking up at her. “I’ll tell you what I want: I want to know just where you and I stand. Hang it, the man who pays for the dinner is generally allowed to have a seat at table.” She flamed with anger and abasement, and the sickening need of having to conciliate where she longed to humble. “I don’t know what you mean—but you must see, Gus, that I can’t stay here talking to you at this hour——” “Gad, you go to men’s houses fast enough in broad day light—strikes me you’re not always so deuced careful of appearances.” The brutality of the thrust gave her the sense of dizziness that follows on a physical blow. Rosedale had spoken then—this was the way men talked of her—She felt suddenly weak and defenceless: there was a throb of self-pity in her throat. But all the while another self was sharpening her to vigilance, whispering the terrified warning that every word and gesture must be measured. “If you have brought me here to say insulting things——” she began. Trenor laughed. “Don’t talk stage-rot. I don’t want to insult you. But a man’s got his feelings—and you’ve played with mine too long. I didn’t begin this business—kept out of the way, and left the track clear for the other chaps, till you rummaged me out and set to work to make an ass of me—and an easy job you had of it, too. That’s the trouble—it was too easy for you—you got reckless—thought you could turn me inside out, and chuck me in the gutter like an empty purse. But, by gad, that ain’t playing fair: that’s dodging the rules of the game. Of course I know now what you wanted—it wasn’t my beautiful eyes you were after—but I tell you what, Miss Lily, you’ve got to pay up for making me think so——” He rose, squaring his shoulders aggressively, and stepped toward her with a reddening brow; but she held her footing, though every nerve tore at her to retreat as he advanced. “Pay up?” she faltered. “Do you mean that I owe you money?” He laughed again. “Oh, I’m not asking for payment in kind. But there’s such a thing as fair play—and interest on one’s money—and hang me if I’ve had as much as a look from you——” “Your money? What have I to do with your money? You advised me how to invest mine . . . you must have seen I knew nothing of business . . . you told me it was all right——” “It WAS all right—it is, Lily: you’re welcome to all of it, and ten times more. I’m only asking for a word of thanks from you.” He was closer still, with a hand that grew formidable; and the frightened self in her was dragging the other down. “I HAVE thanked you; I’ve shown I was grateful. What more have you done than any friend might do, or any one accept from a friend?”