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 Mr. Fairchild got up and walked over to the window, and stood staring out a moment. He had a daughter at home and a boy, and a wife. 'Pull yourself together,' he said roughly to Felix, over his shoulder, and strode over toward the door. 'I'll be back in five or ten minutes. You stay here and get yourself into shape.'

When he returned his frown was deeper, his manner ever more stern and severe. He spoke with the irritability of a man acting against his better judgment.

'Can you pay this money back?' he demanded brusquely.

Felix shook his head, 'I don't know how. It's all gone but a little over fifty dollars.'

'Haven't you anything put away in the bank?'

'A little, but Sheilah is in charge of that. But,' timidly he suggested, 'I could give you my note, couldn't I?'

'And what as security?' Mr. Fairchild inquired scathingly—scathingly because there was a terrific combat taking place within him, between his determination to be just, and a desire to help a fellowcreature in distress.

'I don't know. I haven't any property of my own. Sheilah has always known so much more about money affairs. Once, though, I took out a life-insurance policy. A smooth-talking sort of fellow got