"You don't take much account of a hundred dollars now," he
returned, trying to smile.

"I know you don't want to talk about it," she said, "but I do. I
love to play with emotions. I suppose it's a habit, like any
other," she continued, "and it grows on one like opium or
morphine. That's why I'll go to hell, Frank. It wasn't that way at
all when you used to know me. I think I must have been nice then,
and really worth loving!"

"Oh, yes!" he returned miserably. "Oh, yes!"

"I have a whole series of the most complicated emotions about
you," she said, "only a lot of them are unexploded, like fire
crackers before they are touched off. If I lost all my money I'd
be in a panic till you came and took me; but as long as I have it
I don't think of you more than once a week. Yet, do you know,
Frank, if you got a sweetheart, I believe I'd scratch her eyes
out. It's rather fine of me to tell you all that," she went on,
with a smile, "for I'm giving you the key of the combination, and
you might take advantage of it!"

"Florence," he said, "I thought at first you were just laughing at
me, but I see that you are right. You are heartless. You oughtn't
to talk like that."

She looked a shade put out.

"Well, Frank, it's the truth, anyway," she said, "and in the old