pulled herself together, and went on:

'That may be! though it's not what I call myself, or what I am
usually called, so far as I know. At any rate my convictions are
honest, and I am sure you will respect them as such, even if you do
not share them.' She did not see the ready response in his face
which she expected, and so hurried on:

'It has always seemed to me that a--when a woman has to speak to a
man she should do so as frankly as she would like him to speak to
her, and as freely. Leonard, I--I,' as she halted, a sudden idea,
winged with possibilities of rescuing procrastination came to her.
She went on more easily:

'I know you are in trouble about money matters. Why not let me help
you?' He sat up and looked at her and said genially:

'Well, Stephen, you are a good old sort! No mistake about it. Do
you mean to say you would help me to pay my debts, when the governor
has refused to do so any more?'

'It would be a great pleasure to me, Leonard, to do anything for your
good or your pleasure.'

There was a long pause; they both sat looking down at the ground.
The woman's heart beat loud; she feared that the man must hear it.
She was consumed with anxiety, and with a desolating wish to be
relieved from the strain of saying more. Surely, surely Leonard
could not be so blind as not to see the state of things! . . . He
would surely seize the occasion; throw aside his diffidence and