At length he invited her to ride home in his limousine, but he did not invite her to dinner. She told herself that she would have had to decline. But she would have liked to be asked. While he rhapsodized once more about her future she was thinking of her immediate penury. As she approached the street of her residence she realized that she must either starve till pay-day or borrow. It was a bad beginning, but better than a hopeless ending. After several gasps of hesitation she finally made her plea: “I'm awfully sorry to have to trouble you, Mr. Ferriday, but I'm--Well, could you lend me twenty-five dollars?” “My dear child, take fifty,” he cried. She shook her head, but it hurt her to see the roll of bills he dived for and brought up, and the careless grace with which he peeled two leaves from the cabbage. Easy money is always attended with resentment that more did not come along. Kedzie pouted at her folly in not accepting the fifty. If she had said, “Lend me fifty,” he would have offered her a hundred. But the twenty-five was salvation, and it would buy her food enough to keep her and her useless husband alive, and to buy her a pair of shoes and some gloves. As the car drew near her corner she cried that she had some shopping to do and escaped again at the drug-store. She found her husband at home. There was an unwonted authority about his greeting: “Well, young woman, you may approach and kiss my hand. I am a gentleman with a job. I am a Chicago gentleman with a job.” “You don't mean it!” Kedzie gasped; and kissed him from habit with more respect than her recent habit had shown. “I mean it,” said Gilfoyle. “I am now on the staff of the Deshler Advertising Agency. I was afraid when Mr. D. offered me an unsolicited position (he could say it to-day) that it was the red wine and not the real money that was talking, but he was painfully sober this noon, took me out to lunch, and told me that he would be proud to avail himself of my services.” “Splendid!” said Kedzie, with sincere enthusiasm. It is always pleasant to learn that money is setting toward the family. But something told Kedzie that her late acquisition of twenty-five dollars would not be with her long. Easy come, easy go. “How much is the fare to Chicago?” she asked, in a hollow voice. “Twenty-two dollars is the fare,” said Gilfoyle, “with about eight dollars extra. I couldn't borrow a cent. I've got only five dollars.” “I thought so,” said Kedzie. “Thought what so?” said Gilfoyle. “Nothing,” said Kedzie. “Well, I happen to have twenty-five dollars.” “That's funny,” said Gilfoyle. “Where did you get it?” “Oh, I saved it up.” “From what?” “Well, do you want the twenty-five, or don't you?” Gilfoyle pondered. If he questioned the source of the money he might find it out, and be unable to accept it. He wanted the money more than the hazardous information; so he said: