dBooks desire

'' She felt sure of him now.
She scrambled toward the heights of moral grandeur.
``I want you to stop. I've no right to ask you to
involve yourself in my misfortunes. Stanley, you
mustn't. I can't allow it.''
``Oh, fudge!'' laughed he. ``Don't give me these
scares. Don't forget--Jennings at three. Good-by
and good luck.''
And he rang off that she might have no chance on
impulse to do herself mischief with her generous
thoughtfulness for him. She felt rather mean, but not
nearly so mean as she would have felt had she let the
opportunity go by with no generous word said. ``And
no doubt my aversion for that little wretch,'' thought
she, ``makes me think him more terrible than he is.
After all, what can he do? Watch me--and discover
nothing, because there'll be nothing to discover.''
Jennings came exactly at three--came with the air
of a man who wastes no one's time and lets no one waste
his time. He was a youngish man of forty or there-
abouts, with a long sharp nose, a large tight mouth,
and eyes that seemed to be looking restlessly about for
money.


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