"Explain what?" Her mild reply seemed to provoke a new wave of exasperation. "The only way to stop his coming was to pay his debts. They're very heavy. I had no right to commit you; I acknowledge it." She took a deep breath, the figure of Michelangelo's liabilities blazing out before her as on a giant blackboard. Then: "You had every right, Dexter," she said. "I'm glad you did it." He stood silent, his head bent, twisting between his fingers the cigar he had forgotten to relight. It was as if he had been startled out of speech by the promptness of her acquiescence, and would have found it easier to go on arguing and justifying himself. "That's--very handsome of you, Pauline," he said at length. "Oh, no--why? You did it out of regard for me, I know. Only--perhaps you won't mind our talking things over a little. About ways and means ..." she added, seeing his forehead gloom again. "Ways and means--oh, certainly. But please understand that I don't expect you to shoulder the whole sum. I've had two big fees lately; I've already arranged--" She interrupted him quickly. "It's not your affair, Dexter. You're awfully generous, always; but I couldn't think of letting you--" "It _is_ my affair; it's all of our affair. I don't want this nasty notoriety any more than you do ... and Jim's happiness wrecked into the bargain..." "You're awfully generous," she repeated. "It's first of all a question of helping Jim and Lita. If that young ass came over here with a contract from Klawhammer in his pocket there'd be no holding her. And once that gang get hold of a woman..." He spoke with a kind of breathless irritation, as though it were incredible that Pauline should still not understand. "It's very fine of you, dear," she could only murmur. A pause followed, during which, for the first time, she could assemble her thoughts and try to take in the situation. Dexter had bought off Michelangelo to keep one more disturbing element out of the family complication; perhaps also to relieve himself of the bother of having on his hands, at close quarters, an idle and mischief-making young man. That was comprehensible. But if his first object had been the securing of Jim's peace of mind, might not the same end have been achieved, more satisfactorily to every one but Michelangelo, by his uniting with Pauline to increase Jim's allowance, and thus giving Lita the amusement and distraction of having a lot more money to spend? Even at such a moment, Pauline's practical sense of values made it hard for her to accept the idea of putting so many good thousands into the pockets of Michelangelo's creditors. She was naturally generous; but no matter how she disposed of her fortune, she could never forget that it had been money--and how much money it had been--before it became something else. For her it was never transmuted, but only exchanged. "You're not satisfied--you don't think I did right?" Manford began again.