"You'll find that in good time. In the mean while you'd better take this."
From her jacket she drew a paper, which she passed to him. "That's your
ticket. You'll see," she laughed, apologetically, "that I've taken for you
what they call a suite, and I've done it for this reason. They're keeping
a lookout for you on every tramp ship from New York, on every cattle-ship
from Boston, and on every grain-ship from Montreal; but they're not
looking for you in the most expensive cabins of the most expensive liners.
They know you've no money; and if you get out of the country at all, they
expect it will be as a stoker or a stow-away They'll never think you're
driving in cabs and staying at the best hotels."

"But I shan't be," he said, simply.

"Oh yes, you will. You'll need money, of course; and I've brought it.
You'll need a good deal; so I've brought plenty."

She drew out a pocketbook and held it toward him. He looked at it,
reddening, but made no attempt to take it.

"I can't--I can't--go as far as that," he stammered, hoarsely.

"You mean," she returned, quickly, "that you hesitate to take money from a
woman. I thought you might. But it isn't from a woman; it's from a man.
It's from my father. He would have liked to do it. He would have wanted me
to do it. They keep putting it in the bank for me--just to spend--but I
never need it. What can I do with money in a place like Greenport? Here,
take it," she urged, thrusting it into his hands. "You know very well it
isn't a matter of choice, but of life or death."

With her own fingers she clasped his upon it, drawing back and coloring at