"Store accounts, of course!" he said. "I've charge accounts at several of the stores in New York, and you can buy what you want and charge it to me. The truth is, dear, that I haven't got a thousand in cash. We writer fellows aren't very good financiers and I've been living pretty close to the last dollar. But my credit is good." Helen bit her lip. "I'd rather not charge things, Kirklan. If it would be just as convenient to let me have the cash----" "I'll let you have it Friday," he agreed; "I'll drop a note to Atchinson and ask him to make me an advance. The publishing house makes out its checks on Thursday." "Kirklan," she murmured, forced to try a new line, "I'll have to tell you the truth. I'll have to have some money by Wednesday. Oh, I know it's terrible, asking you to pay my old debts, but I'm so afraid of--of being sued that I----" Gilmore patted her shoulder reassuringly. Had he stopped to think about it, he might have considered it strange that a girl in the humble position in which he had found her should have got into debt to the extent of a thousand dollars, but it was Helen, not he, who recognized this possible inconsistency, and she hastened to add with that glibness which even a poor liar may achieve in a moment of desperation: "It--it was money that I borrowed for my sister's illness. I had to sign some notes, and----" "You shall have the money, Helen, but the truth is always the best in the first place, dear. I want us always to be frank with each other. I want you to feel that you can come to me with everything. After all, a falsehood is the most futile thing in the world. You should have told me the exact truth about the matter from the beginning. I'll get in touch with Atchinson on the phone to-morrow and arrange it. You shall have the money to-morrow night, but you must never lie to me, dear--under any conditions. A lie is one of the things I find it hard to forgive." His tone was so gentle, his agreement to the request so prompt, and his faith in her so unquestioning that Helen was touched. It made her think that she might almost learn to love him; impulsively she brushed her lips to the back of his hand. "That's good of you, Kirklan; you--you'll never know what a weight you've taken from my mind. You--you do love me a very great deal." "Better than all else in the world, Helen!" he answered huskily. There was a silence, to Gilmore an enraptured silence in which he felt closer to his wife than ever before. It seemed that suddenly there was a new bond between them. "What does Atchinson think of the new book?" she asked him presently. "Does he think it will have the success of the last one?" "Yes, even more. He's enthusiastic--even for Atchinson." His lips parted into a smile. "Speaking of Atchinson, that reminds me. He was trying to convince me that he saw you in New York this afternoon--going into some cheap dump just around the corner from Eighth Avenue."