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Rh He was hopelessly entangled and had to stop. She came unobtrusively to his aid.

"I think I understand you," she said. "It's delightful to be appreciated by—those whom you appreciate."

For the fourth time in ten minutes her eyes were veiled by her lashes. It's a fascinating trick when the rest of the countenance is in complete harmony with it.

The opportunity already partially grasped was taking on substance and a definite outline. Something whispered to Barry that he should take a firmer hold. He leaned across the table toward the charming secretary, and started in again.

"A—speaking for myself," he said, "I may say I've admired a good many women, but I've never admired anybody quite so much as I do you."

Well spoken, Barry! She couldn't fail to understand that. That she did understand it was evidenced by the deepening flush in her cheeks, by the nervous tapping of her finger-tips on the surface of the table, by the slight tremulousness in her voice as she asked:

"What is there to admire about me, Mr. Malleson?"

"Your beauty, for one thing," answered Barry promptly.

"I thought I was very plain."

It is remarkable with what a clear conscience a woman can lie when she is deprecating what she knows to be her own charms.

"But you're not," protested Barry. "There isn't a woman in my set, in fact there isn't a woman in the upper grade of society in this city, one half so handsome as you are."

Barry's tongue was becoming loosened by his earnestness. The widow's eyes narrowed a trifle, but if there was any danger behind them they did not reveal it.

"And if that were true what advantage would it be to me," she asked, "belonging as I do to the lower classes?"

Barry's answer came promptly and decisively.