"Not what you suspect," replied she, amused."I'm not making a play for a gift of a fortune.I haven't anything to suggest."There was a long silence, he turning his glass slowly and from time to time taking a little of the champagne thoughtfully.

She observed him with a quizzical expression.It was apparent to her that he was debating whether he would be making a fool of himself if he offered her an independence outright.

Finally she said:

"Don't worry, Freddie.I'd not take it, even if you screwed yourself up to the point of offering it."He glanced up quickly and guiltily."Why not?" he said.

"You'd be practically my wife.I can trust you.You've had experience, so you can't blame me for hesitating.Money puts the devil in anybody who gets it--man or woman.But I'll trust you----" he laughed--"since I've got to.""No.The most I'd take would be a salary.I'd be a sort of companion.""Anything you like," cried he.This last suspicion born of a life of intimate dealings with his fellow-beings took flight.

"It'd have to be a big salary because you'd have to dress and act the part.What do you say? Is it a go?""Oh, I can't decide now."

"When?"

She reflected."I can tell you in a week."

He hesitated, said, "All right--a week."

She rose to go."I've warned you the chances are against my accepting.""That's because you haven't looked the ground over," replied he, rising.Then, after a nervous moment, "Is the--is the----"He stopped short.

"Go on," said she."We must be frank with each other.""If the idea of living with me is--is disagreeable----" And again he stopped, greatly embarrassed--an amazing indication of the state of mind of such a man as he--of the depth of his infatuation, of his respect, of his new-sprung awe of conventionality.

"I hadn't given it a thought," replied she."Women are not especially sensitive about that sort of thing.""They're supposed to be.And I rather thought you were."She laughed mockingly."No more than other women," said she.

"Look how they marry for a home--or money--or social position--and such men! And look how they live with men year after year, hating them.Men never could do that.""Don't you believe it," replied he."They can, and they do.

The kept man--in and out of marriage--is quite a feature of life in our chaste little village."Susan looked amused."Well--why not?" said she."Everybody's simply got to have money nowadays.""And working for it is slow and mighty uncertain."Her face clouded.She was seeing the sad wretched past from filthy tenement to foul workshop.She said:

"Where shall I send you word?"

"I've an apartment at Sherry's now."

"Then--a week from today."

She put out her hand.He took it, and she marveled as she felt a tremor in that steady hand of his.But his voice was resolutely careless as he said, "So long.Don't forget how much I want or need you.And if you do forget that, think of the advantages--seeing the world with plenty of money--and all the rest of it.Where'll you get such another chance? You'll not be fool enough to refuse."She smiled, said as she went, "You may remember I used to be something of a fool.""But that was some time ago.You've learned a lot since then--surely.""We'll see.I've become--I think--a good deal of a--of a New Yorker.""That means frank about doing what the rest of the world does under a stack of lies.It's a lovely world, isn't it?""If I had made it," laughed Susan, "I'd not own up to the fact."She laughed; but she was seeing the old women of the slums--was seeing them as one sees in the magic mirror the vision of one's future self.And on the way home she said to herself, "It was a good thing that I was arrested today.It reminded me.It warned me.But for it, I might have gone on to make a fool of myself." And she recalled how it had been one of Burlingham's favorite maxims that everything is for the best, for those who know how to use it.