She made the statement clearly, deliberately, with pauses between the sentences, so that each should have time to sink deeply into her hearer’s mind. She had a passionate desire that some one should know the truth about this transaction, and also that the rumour of her intention to repay the money should reach Judy Trenor’s ears. And it had suddenly occurred to her that Rosedale, who had surprised Trenor’s confidence, was the fitting person to receive and transmit her version of the facts. She had even felt a momentary exhilaration at the thought of thus relieving herself of her detested secret; but the sensation gradually faded in the telling, and as she ended her pallor was suffused with a deep blush of misery. Rosedale continued to stare at her in wonder; but the wonder took the turn she had least expected. “But see here—if that’s the case, it cleans you out altogether?” He put it to her as if she had not grasped the consequences of her act; as if her incorrigible ignorance of business were about to precipitate her into a fresh act of folly. “Altogether—yes,” she calmly agreed. He sat silent, his thick hands clasped on the table, his little puzzled eyes exploring the recesses of the deserted restaurant. “See here—that’s fine,” he exclaimed abruptly. Lily rose from her seat with a deprecating laugh. “Oh, no—it’s merely a bore,” she asserted, gathering together the ends of her feather scarf. Rosedale remained seated, too intent on his thoughts to notice her movement. “Miss Lily, if you want any backing—I like pluck——” broke from him disconnectedly. “Thank you.” She held out her hand. “Your tea has given me a tremendous backing. I feel equal to anything now.” Her gesture seemed to show a definite intention of dismissal, but her companion had tossed a bill to the waiter, and was slipping his short arms into his expensive overcoat. “Wait a minute—you’ve got to let me walk home with you,” he said. Lily uttered no protest, and when he had paused to make sure of his change they emerged from the hotel and crossed Sixth Avenue again. As she led the way westward past a long line of areas which, through the distortion of their paintless rails, revealed with increasing candour the DISJECTA MEMBRA of bygone dinners, Lily felt that Rosedale was taking contemptuous note of the neighbourhood; and before the doorstep at which she finally paused he looked up with an air of incredulous disgust. “This isn’t the place? Some one told me you were living with Miss Farish.” “No: I am boarding here. I have lived too long on my friends.” He continued to scan the blistered brown stone front, the windows draped with discoloured lace, and the Pompeian decoration of the muddy vestibule; then he looked back at her face and said with a visible effort: “You’ll let me come and see you some day?”