multicolored mice--" She stopped with something almost like a sob. He
smiled, thinking she was laughing.

But oh, the blow for her! In her youthful enthusiasm she had always, from
the first time they had encountered one another, been sensitively aware
of this tall, clean-cut, attractive young fellow. And by and by she
learned his name and asked her sisters about him, and when she heard of
his recent ruin and withdrawal from the gatherings of his kind her youth
flushed to its romantic roots, warming all within her toward this
splendid and radiant young man who lived so nobly, so proudly aloof. And
then--miracle of Manhattan!--he had proved his courage before her dazed
eyes--rising suddenly out of the very earth to save her from a fate which
her eager desire painted blacker every time she embellished the incident.
And she decorated the memory of it every day.

And now! Here, beside her, was this prince among men, her champion,
beaten to his ornamental knees by Fate, and contemplating a miserable,
uncertain career to keep his godlike body from actual starvation. And
she--she with more money than even she knew what to do with, powerless to
aid him, prevented from flinging open her check book and bidding him to
write and write till he could write no more.

A memory--a thought crept in. Where had she heard his name connected with
her father's name? In Ophir Steel? Certainly; and was it not this young
man's father who had laid the foundation for her father's fortune? She
had heard some such thing, somewhere.

He said: "I had no idea of boring anybody--you least of all--with my
woes. Indeed, I haven't any sorrows now, because to-day I received my
first encouragement; and no doubt I'll be a huge success. Only--I thought