the big chair, and looking at her with tired, wise eyes.

"It takes a woman to get down to the personal view," he said. "You're primitive, Andree. I always said so. But I didn't guess at this when I started out. I would beg your pardon; but I know better than to try to pay my debts with a five-cent bit. Let it go at that. If I've hurt you I assure you that you've got the goods on me right now."

She drew a long breath through her teeth.

"Is it like when I would go from Tempest and I was afraid?" she asked.

"Ab-solutely."

"And when Robison said about love, and I did nearly hit him, and did not hit just because?"

"Oh, Lord. Yes!"

"And—and like when Ogil——"

"Andree, I fancy you know enough. We are neither making our maiden attempt, are we? Let up on me, Andree, and watch out for another fellow who's looking for trouble. I give you the whole world so long as you leave Tempest alone."

"But," said Andree convincingly, "it is not like any of these, because it is I who love you. Do you see?"

Dick shrugged his shoulders.

"If a man pays his debts fully here there is a reasonable hope that he may go free hereafter," he said. "Andree, it is exactly like them all because I don't love you any more than you loved them."

That went home. He saw her wince. But still she could not believe.

"But—qu'est-ce que I have done to you?" she asked.

Dick knew that she had not the wit to follow a line of reasoning out. She just sought the why as a beaten dog might have done. But that did not ease matters. He evaded direct answer.

"To-night you have done a good deal," he said. "I give you my word that a man does not enjoy feeling as you have made me feel to-night."

"But what have I done to you?" Suddenly she flung herself into the chair-seat, reaching up her hands to his shoulders. Her eyes were frightened, but wistful with