Lauriston laughed, and gaining confidence, gave the girl a knowing look.
"Not much," he admitted, "else I wouldn't have had to do that bit of business with you the other day."
"Oh—that!" she said indifferently. "That's nothing. You'd be astonished if you knew what sort of people just have to run round to us, now and then—I could tell you some secrets! But—I guessed you weren't very well up in money matters, all the same. Writing people seldom are."
"I suppose you are?" suggested Lauriston.
"I've been mixed up in them all my life, more or less," she answered. "Couldn't help being, with my surroundings. You won't think me inquisitive if I ask you something? Were you—hard up—when you came round the other night?"
"Hard up's a mild term," replied Lauriston, frankly. "I hadn't a penny!"
"Excepting a gold watch worth twelve or fifteen pounds," remarked Zillah, drily. "And how long had you been like that?"
"Two or three days—more or less," answered Lauriston. "You see, I've been expecting money for more than a week—that was it."
"Has it come?" she asked.
"No—it hasn't," he replied, with a candid blush. "That's a fact!"
"Will it come—soon?" she demanded.
"By George!—I hope so!" he exclaimed. "I'll be hard up again, if it doesn't."
"And then you offer to do for five what you might
