must do yourself, once and for all. You must fight this out in
secret; this city is no place for men with appetites they can't
control. Do this for me, Bob, and--and I'll let you do anything
after that. I'll let you--beat me." Getting no response from him,
she added gravely, "It is that or--nothing."

"I can't let you go," Bob said, finally.

"Good! We'll keep this apartment and I'll go on working--"

He hid his face in his hands and groaned. "Gee! I'm a rotter."

"You can sell your belongings at the Charlevoix, and we'll use the
money. We'll need everything, for I can't piece out my salary the
way I've been doing. There can't be any more supper-parties and
gifts--"

"I should hope not," he growled. "I'll murder the first man who
speaks to you."

"Then is it a real, binding bargain?"

"It is--if you'll bind it with another kiss," he agreed, with a
miserable attempt at cheerfulness. "But I sha'n't look myself in
the face."

For the first time she came to him willingly.

"Doesn't it seem nice to be honest with yourself and the world?"
she sighed, after a time.