She turned away, and, going to the window, stared down upon the busy street, striving to calm herself. For a time the room was silent, save for the muffled sounds from below; then she faced him again, and he saw that her eyes were misty with tears. "I want you to know," she said, "that I understand your position perfectly. If you don't succeed, you not only lose the girl but ruin yourself, for you can never repay the men who trusted you. That is a very big thing to a man, I know, yet there must be a way out--there always is. Perhaps it will present itself when you least expect it." She gave him a tired little smile before lowering her veil. He rose, and laid his hand on her arm. "Forgive my brutal bluntness. I'm not clever at such things, but I would have said as much to my sister if I had one." It was an honest attempt to comfort her, but it failed. "Good-bye," she said; "you mustn't give up." All the way back to her hotel her mind dwelt bitterly upon his parting words. "His sister! his sister!" she kept repeating. "God! Can't he see?" If he had shown even a momentary jealousy of Hilliard it would not have been so hard, but this impersonal attitude was maddening! The man had but one idea in the world, one dream, one vision--another woman. Alone in her room, she still felt the flesh of her arm burn, where he had laid his hand, and then came the thrill of that forgotten kiss. How many times had she felt the pressure of his lips upon hers! How many hopes had she built upon that memory! But the thought of Boyd's indifference rose in sharp conflict with the tenderness that prompted her to help him at any cost. After all, why not take what was offered her and let this man shift for himself? Why not live her life as she had planned it before he came? The reward was at hand--she had only to take it and let him go down as a sacrifice to that ice-woman he coveted. Dusk was falling when she ceased pacing the floor, and with set, defiant face went to the telephone, to call up Hilliard at the Rainier Club. "I have thought over your proposition and I have changed my mind," she said. "Yes, you may send the car for me at seven." Then, in reply to some request, she laughed back, through white lips: "Very well, if you wish it--the blue dress. Yes! The blue decollete dress." She hung up the receiver, then stood with hands clinched while a shiver ran through her slender body. She stepped to a closet, and flung open the door to stare at the array of gowns. "So this is the end of my good resolutions," she laughed, and snatched a garment recklessly from its hook. "Now for all the miserable tricks of the trade!" CHAPTER XVI WILLIS MARSH COMES OUT FROM COVER