“Why, yes—if necessary. But it is wiser to have a check for your own safety and security. Shall you get a receipt?”
“I—I suppose so—I never thought of that.” The lovely face was so anxious and worried that Pollard’s deepest sympathy was roused.
“Let me help you further,” he said, impulsively. “Oh, Phyllis, confide the whole story to me. I’m sure I can help—and you can trust me.”
The frank glance that accompanied these words was also tender and appealing. Phyllis knew at once that here was a friend—even more than a friend—but at any rate, a man she could trust.
“I can’t tell you,” she said, hesitatingly, “for it isn’t all my secret. I wish I could speak plainly—but——”
“That’s all right; don’t tell me anything you’re in honor bound not to. But let me know what you can of the circumstances and let me advise you. Can’t I pay the money whenever it is due, and bring you a receipt—and so save you unnecessary embarrassment?”
“Oh, if you could do that!” Phyllis’ eyes shone with gratitude and pleasure at the thought of thus having her burden shared.
But Lane’s return to the room precluded further planning just then.
“Pollard,” Lane said, “I’m beginning to think things look a bit dark for Phil Barry.”
“As how?”