"You are a hard-hearted sort of chap," said Hay coldly, but rather annoyed at his friendly advances being flouted. "Well, then, if you won't accept a loan, let me help you in another way. Come and dine at my rooms. I have a young publisher coming also, and if you meet him he will be able to do something for you. He's under obligations to me, and you may be certain I'll use all my influence in your favor. Come now--next Tuesday--that's a week off--you can't have any engagement at such a long notice." Paul smiled. "I never do have any engagements," he said with his boyish smile, "thank you. I'll look in if I can. But I am in trouble, Grexon--very great trouble." "You shouldn't be," said Hay, smiling. "I know well enough why you will not accept my loan. The papers say Sylvia, your Dulcinea, has inherited a million. You are to marry her. Unless," said Hay, suddenly, "this access of wealth has turned her head and she has thrown you over. Is she that sort of girl?" "No," said Paul quietly, "she is as true to me as I am to her. But you are mistaken as to the million. It is five thousand a year, and she may not even inherit that." "What do you mean?" "I am not at liberty to say. But with regard to your dinner," added Paul, hastily changing the conversation, "I'll come if I can get my dress-suit out of pawn." "Then I count on you," said Hay, blandly, "though you will not let me help you to obtain the suit. However, this publisher will do a lot for you. By Jove, what a good-looking girl." He said this under his breath. Miss Maud Krill appeared on the doorstep where the two young men stood and stumbled against Grexon in passing. His hat was off at once, and he apologized profusely. Miss Krill, who seemed a young woman of few words, as Paul thought from her silence in the office, smiled and bowed, but passed on, without saying a "thank you." Mrs. Krill followed, escorted by the treacherous Pash who was all smiles and hand-washings and bows. Apparently he was quite convinced that the widow's story was true, and Paul felt sick at the news he would have to tell Sylvia. Pash saw the young man, and meeting his indignant eyes darted back into his office like a rabbit into its burrow. The widow sailed out in her calm, serene way, without a look at either Paul or his companion. Yet the young man had an instinct that she saw them both. "That's the mother I expect," said Hay, putting his glass firmly into his eye; "a handsome pair. Gad, Paul, that young woman--eh?" "Perhaps you'd like to marry her," said Paul, bitterly. Hay drew himself up stiffly. "I don't marry stray young women I see on the street, however attractive," he said in his cold voice. "I don't know either of these ladies." "Pash will introduce you if you make it worth his while." "Why the deuce should I," retorted Hay, staring.