Cherokee turned her face full upon him and asked bravely: “Will you let me help you both?”
He appeared startled: “You little woman, you! What on earth could you do but be grieved at a friend’s misfortune?” She little knew that all this was but to abuse that intense, fond, clinging sympathy.
“I have fourteen hundred in my own name, will you use part of that?”
“Great heavens, no. I would become a beggar first!”
“But if I insist, and it will save you and—him?”
Willard Frost sat for a time without speaking; apparently he was weighing some profound subject. At last he looked up and gathered Cherokee’s hands in his.
“I appreciate the spirit that prompts you to make this heroic offer to me. When will you need this money?”
“Not for two months yet, I expect to spend the winter in ‘Frisco’ with Mr. and Mrs. Stanhope.”
“Are you absolutely in earnest about our using it?”