He stared across in astonishment at this slip of a girl who had outwitted two resourceful men and an older sister of unquestioned ability.
"I do not recognize you, Miss Hope," he said finally.
"Perhaps you never looked at me before," she suggested archly, feeling instinctively that this was her hour; that the man she loved was at this moment thinking more about her than of anything else in the world.
Haines made a gesture of regret.
"That must be it," he agreed. Then he leaned forward eagerly. "But I'm looking at you now, and I like looking at you. I like what you've done for me."
"Oh, that was nothing, Mr. Haines," she exclaimed airily, her intuition telling her of her sway over the man.
"Nothing!" he exclaimed. "Well, it's more than any one ever did for me before. I've known lots of girls—"
"I don't doubt that, Mr. Haines," Hope interjected, with a light laugh.
"Yes, I say I've known lots of girls, but there's never been one who showed herself such a true friend as you have been. There's never been any one who believed in me this way when I was practically down and out."
"Perhaps you've never been down and out before, Mr. Haines, so they never had a chance to show whether they believed in you or not."