Wilkinson looked at the bag inquisitively. He wondered what surprise she had in store for him, and smilingly proceeded to open it. "Jewels!" he exclaimed, eyeing her for a moment in uncertainty; and the next moment his hand brought forth a handful of rings. "Yes, those and the automobile," she faltered, forcing the words out, "I want to give them back to you." The man broke suddenly into a good-natured, affectionate laugh. "You've been reading the papers, I see, and thought the old man was down and out. You were going to put up your jewels and truck to help me out? Well, I'll be----" He caught her hand impulsively. "Say, Madeline, you're a good sort, and no mistake about it!" And now, snapping the little bag together, he passed it back to her. "But you're all wrong, my dear, I'm not strapped--not much! This is between ourselves, though, understand. You keep your jewels, and the car, too. There's many a good time coming to us yet. Don't you worry, now--and don't forget that I appreciate your goodness to me. I do, indeed." "You don't understand me," she said, retreating under his advances. "I brought these back to you, because I'm going to break with you. I----" Wilkinson looked at her dumbfounded. "Break with me! What? Surely you're joking. Why, no woman ever broke with Peter V. Wilkinson voluntarily. I've broken with a score or more, but this is a new one on me. Break with me? What for?" He leaned back against his desk. There was nothing more to say; the girl had spoken in finality. She drew herself up to her full height and looked down upon him. And as she stood there in all her slenderness, she had never seemed more beautiful to him. "I think I understand now," presently he said, white with anger. "You really thought, like the rest, that I was a sinking ship; and you were going to desert me, like the rats, before I sank. That's the idea, is it? Well, you're mightily mistaken, my girl." And now he held out his hand to her in appeal. "You don't want me to prove that I'm as sound as a dollar, do you? For I can and will." And then he went on to tell her that he had all his money stowed away. "I have, for a fact," he concluded; "but this is in confidence. And now you won't leave me, will you? Somehow, I can't let you go." "Peter, I thought I might be able to do this without telling you the truth," she said, with a note almost of tenderness in her voice. "But I see I've got to make myself plain to you. I'm going to break with you for the reason that--that there's someone else." The words fell dully on his ears. " ... Someone else," he repeated. He looked at her long and searchingly before continuing: "But how can there be anyone else? I've got all the money that there is in little old New York! What more do you want? Who else----" And then, without waiting for a reply: "It isn't Wilgerot? No? Then it's Debevoise?" She shook her head.