He tossed the piece of paper into the air with boyish glee, and only
just caught it as it was fluttering into the fire.

"Oh, be careful!" cried Mrs. Hilliard.

"I told him he was a scoundrel, and he began by threatening to
thrash me. I'm very glad he didn't try. It was in the train, and I
know very well I should have strangled him. It would have been
awkward, you know."

"Oh, Maurice, how _can_ you----?"

"Well, here's the money; and half of it is yours."

"Mine? Oh, no! After all you have given me. Besides, I sha'n't want
it."

"How's that?"

Their eyes mete Hilliard again saw the flush in her cheeks, and
began to guess its explanation. He looked puzzled, interested.

"Do I know him?" was his next inquiry.

"Should you think it very wrong of me?" She moved aside from the
line of his gaze. "I couldn't imagine how you would take it."

"It all depends. Who is the man?"