was a modest young man, and these barefaced confessions made
him wince. He was about to interpose irritably when Jennings
turned on him with a leading question. "Why did you give that
photograph to--"

"Confound it!" cried Mallow, jumping up, "I did no such thing.
I knew Maraquito only as the keeper of the gambling house.
There was nothing between--"

"Don't, sir," said Susan, rising in her turn with a flush of
jealousy. "I saw her kissing the photograph."

"Then she must be crazy," cried Mallow: "I never gave her any
occasion to behave so foolishly. For months I have been
engaged, and--" he here became aware that he was acting
foolishly in talking like this to a love-sick servant, and
turned on his heel abruptly. "I'll go in the next room," said
he, "call me when you wish for my presence, Jennings. I can't
possibly stay and listen to this rubbish," and going out, he
banged the door, thereby bringing a fresh burst of tears from
Susan Grant. Every word he said pierced her heart.

"Now I've made him cross," she wailed, "and I would lay down
my life for him--that I would."

"See here, my girl," said Jennings, soothingly and fully
prepared to make use of the girl's infatuation, "it is absurd
your being in love with a gentleman of Mr. Mallow's position."

Miss Grant tossed her head. "I've read Bow-Bells and the