his deceptive trusting look should not save him now.

"Why don't you say something?" she demanded.

The young man gave an embarrassed laugh.

"Well, to tell the honest truth, I don't seem to think of anything to
say--"

"Oh!... So the Settlement suggests _nothing_ to you--as to picking the
beam from your own eye?"

"Not at this moment, I think. In fact, I don't seem to grasp at all--"

"_Oh!_" said Cally, with a little gasp.

And then, stung on by his reckless hardihood, she struck to kill:

"How can you _look_ at me, and pretend that you're so anxious to help
other people's businesses, when you know you wouldn't even give to your
own Settlement--_not a cent_!"

The two stood facing each other, hardly a yard apart, their eyes
dead-level. V.V., as Henrietta Cooney called him, continued to look at
her, and though he was far from a florid young man, it seemed now as if
he must have been so, so much color did he have to lose. And Cally
discovered that the man had somehow managed to keep, over all these
brilliant weeks, that mysterious trick he had of making her feel unfair,
and even rather horrid and common, when she knew perfectly well she
wasn't. For the look on his unreliable face was that of one stabbed from