the actual work than any one else." Her manner was very positive.
"Nothing else?" he demanded.
She looked down and shook her head. "Nothing else, Milt. You should know that. You have tried to persuade me to think—differently of you. It—it has made it very hard for me, because I don't want to hurt you,—and I can't—"
"And yet you'll run around with this—this—" gesturing toward the men's shanty.
"Which is my own affair," she said simply. "I'm sorry, but there must be a limit to what I let you say."
"Maybe that's what interests me," he said sharply, narrowing his eyes and leaning over the desk. "Maybe I'm interested because it's your own affair, and what happens to you—means a lot to me," voice dropping to a whisper. "I don't want you to make any mistakes that you will be sorry for."
His heart was racing, hot words of jealousy clamored to be out, but he repressed them, and searching wildly for some device which would grip her interest and give him different standing in her eyes, he threw out that empty threat.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
His baseless innuendo had struck the mark! She believed that it was backed by something other than his helpless jealousy. He flushed hotly and stood erect.
"Never mind what I mean," he said. "Maybe I can't tell you—just tonight. I don't want to say anything against anybody until I'm sure."
"But you make hints!" insistently.
"Yes, I'd do a lot to help you, Helen."
