“Now you go along like a good girl,” advised Boland, “and I’ll see that you are treated fairly.”
He opened a pretentious looking check book which lay on the desk.
“Just tell me how much you want and—”
“Nothing!” was the firm, decisive reply.
He eyed the girl critically as he remarked:
“You look as though ready money were a stranger to you.”
“It is—but I have a position with the Mining Company in this building.”
“I know them,” declared Boland thoughtfully. Patience made no comment. She went on proudly, drawing her figure to its full height:
“And I want nothing; I am giving you back your son, Mr. Boland, I am not selling him to you.”
He shrugged his shoulders and stared stupidly at the vacant doorway as he heard the girlish voice in the hallway, saying: