McKenna shook hands, surprised at the masculine directness of her grip, surprised too at the utter disappearance from her face and attitude of all the impulsive fire and fascination that had first struck him. "You are right, and you are wrong," she said directly. "I took the ring, but in an entirely different way from what you believe. I did not take it at the table, as you think—do you know where I found it?" "Where?" "In the pocket of Mr. Beecher’s overcoat." *CHAPTER XXV* McKenna was so startled at this announcement that the expression on his face brought a smile to the face of the woman. "Let me begin at the beginning," she said. While he seated himself, she continued moving about, her head down, her lip closed over her under lip, carefully considering the situation. She had no fear to give her confidence. She understood the man with whom she was dealing, the more so for his open avowal of his reasons for seeking her friendship. Also she was fully alive as to the strength of such an alliance. What she considered was how much she should reveal. To-morrow she would be Mrs. John G. Slade, at the goal of her ambitions, over what perilous paths only she herself knew. The knowledge of what she had won suffocated her, for the nature of dramatic and adventurous spirits is such that they must seek relief in confidence. More, they crave the admiration that only another can bring to complete their moments of self-intoxication. At this moment, when her rôle had been played, she craved applause. McKenna was not a friend—he was a machine, a rock that would give back an echo. Beside, what had he not divined? "McKenna," she began quietly, though weighing her words, "to any one else I might tell my story differently. With you it is otherwise. You are no fool. I shall speak openly. On the night of my party I was virtually ruined." "Ruined!" exclaimed McKenna, with an involuntary glance at the luxury which surrounded them. "When I say ruined, I mean for me," she said, nodding. She became thoughtful, looking beyond him, seeing a distant self. "When I came here I had fifteen thousand a year. I was not satisfied. I wanted forty. I gambled. I have always gambled. I lost heavily. That night I had only five thousand a year left. That was ruin for me. I speculated on the tips of a man who deliberately and for a purpose misinformed me. Can you guess who that man was?" "Slade," said McKenna instantly. "Yes, Slade," she said. "It has been a desperate struggle between us. Tomorrow I shall become his wife. That is what I want more than I have ever wanted anything else. It is my right—you will see what I will do. Understand me, if Slade had failed I should not have married him, and yet I tell you frankly he is the only man I have known that appeals to me in every way. However," she added, with a little abrupt movement of her closed hand, "that’s over. I have won."