asked accusingly.

"You bet not."

Mame's grew soft. "I knew you were all right," said she. "Sometimes they
say things to me that their fine lady friends would bounce 'em for, but
I knew the minute I saw you that you wasn't that kind if you be dressed
up like a gent. Reckon you've been makin' big money in your last place."

"Considerable," admitted James. He felt like a villain, but he had not
the heart to accuse himself of being a gentleman before this pathetic
girl.

Mame leaned suddenly over the counter, and her blonde crest nearly
touched his forehead. "Say," said she, in a whisper.

"What?" whispered James back.

"What he said ain't true. There ain't a mite of truth in it."

"What he said," repeated James vaguely.

Mame pouted. "How awful thick-headed you be," said she. "What he said
about my havin' a feller." She blushed rosily, and her eyes fell.

James felt his own face suffused. He pulled out his pocket-book, and
rose abruptly. "I'm sorry," he said with stupidity.

The rosy flush died away from the girl's face. "Nobody asked you to be
sorry," said she. "I could have any one of a dozen I know if I jest held