Stephen read this sentence over several times before continuing: “I feel bound to make one more effort to repay you, which must be regarded as final. I have interests in several companies in Montana, and I will offer you a position with one of them, on the understanding that you will never come into my way again or—” here several words were scratched out “You must realize how unpleasant it is for my daughter to be under any obligation to a man, who, to put the matter plainly, is a worthless drunkard. In offering this position to you, I may as well say that this is the only motive which actuates me. The position is one in which no responsibility is involved, being merely clerical. The pay would be sufficient to maintain you as long as you remain steady. The condition I impose would be absolute. “Yours truly, “DONALD H. CAMERON.” Stephen noticed with interest the character of the signature. “I don’t believe that man ever failed at anything,” he thought. “There is only one thing that he never learned, and that is how to deal with a failure.” It was the noon hour, and the various whistles told of lunch, for some. Stephen read the letter over and over. “Why not accept the offer?” he questioned. Mr. Cameron could certainly feel no more disrespect for him than he did now, and the blatant fact that he was hungry and without work forced itself upon his attention. “It means another chance,” he muttered, and now that he was sure of himself, he knew that a chance meant success. He thrust the letter into his pocket. “Hang it, I’ll take him up,” he thought. “I have been everything else; I may as well be a grafter.” As he slid his hand out of his coat pocket, he felt another envelope. He pulled it out, and looked longingly at it. It was Jean’s note. He hesitated, then tore it open. “I need it now, if ever I shall,” he said to himself. There was only a line, signed with Jean’s initials. “_I still believe in you._” Stephen read it with bowed head. His shoulders shook. The paper danced up and down before his eyes. Over and over he read the note. Unconsciously he stretched out his hand, as if to press in gratitude and devotion the hand of some one before him. At length, with a start, he came to himself. He returned the note to his pocket, and in a determined fashion walked up to a man who was standing near him. “I would like to borrow two cents for a stamp,” he said. The stranger roared with laughter. “Well, you are broke! Say, friend, I’ll stake you to a meal, if you’re that hard up.” Stephen shook his head: “No, thank you. I have still my coat, which I can pawn; but I am much obliged for the stamp.” He found an odd envelope lying on a table. Going over to the desk, he addressed this to Mr. Cameron. Then taking from the waste basket a sheet of paper, he wrote quickly upon it five words: