pressed her handkerchief against her eyes and conquered
the sobs that threatened to choke her. Burgess watched her. The trimness
of her figure, the absolute neatness and propriety of her dress, the
poise and restraint of her manner. Then she turned and he rose to meet her.

"Mary," said he, "you never in all the time I've known you have failed
to do what I asked you. Will you do something for me now?"

"Yes, sir," she answered simply.

"Then sit down in that chair and take this watch of mine in your hand
and don't say one single, solitary, lonely word for five minutes. No
matter what happens: no matter what anyone says or does. Will you
promise?"

"Yes, sir," she answered again.

"Well then," he began, "I know another man who wants you--this stage
idea is not the only way out of the store. Remember you're not to
speak--this other man wants to marry you."

A scarlet flush sprang to Mary's face and slowly ebbed away again leaving
her deadly pale. She kept her word in letter but hardly in spirit for
she looked at him through tear-filled eyes, and shook her head.

"Of course you can't be expected to take to the idea just at first,"
said he, as if she had spoken, "but I want you to think it over. The man
is a well-off, gentlemanly sort of chap. Miles too old for you of
course--for you're not twenty and he's nearly forty--but I think he
would make you happy. I know he'd try with all the strength that's in him."