He saw Maggie daily, but she maintained the same attitude toward him.  He was now conscious that he was in love.  He saw splendid qualities in her, most of them latent.  Maggie had determination, high spirits, cleverness, courage, and capacity for sympathy and affection; she had head, heart, and beauty, the makings of an unusual woman, if only she could be swung into a different attitude of mind.  But he realized that there was small chance indeed of his working any alteration in her, much less winning her admitted regard, until he was definitely a success, until he had definitely proven himself right.  So he took her rebuffs with a smile, and waited his time.

He understood her point of view, and sympathized with her; for her point of view had once been his own.  With a growing understanding he saw her as the natural product of such a fathership as Old Jimmie’s, and of the cynical environment which Old Jimmie had given her in which crime was a matter of course.  In this connection one matter that had previously interested him began to engage his speculation more and more.  All her life, until recently, Old Jimmie had apparently shown little more concern over Maggie than one shows over a piece of baggage which is stored in this and that warehouse—­and so valueless a piece of baggage in Old Jimmie’s case that it had always been stored in the worst warehouses.  What was behind Old Jimmie’s new interest in his daughter?

Old Jimmie had in late months awakened to the value to him of Maggie as a business proposition—­that was Larry’s answer to his own question.

As for Maggie, during these days, the mere fact that Larry smiled at her and refused to get angry angered her all the more.  Her anger at him, the manner in which he had refused her offered and long-dreamed-of partnership, would not permit her pride and self-confidence to consider any justification for him to enter her mind and argue in his behalf.  The great dream she had nourished had been destroyed.  And, moreover, he had proclaimed himself a fool.

Yes, despite him and all he could do, she was going to go the brilliant, exciting way she had planned!

In fairness to Maggie it must be remembered that despite her assumed maturity and self-confident wisdom, she really was only eighteen, and perhaps did not yet fully know herself, and had all the world yet to learn.  And it must be remembered that she believed herself entirely in the right.  This was a world where strength and cunning were the qualities that counted, and every one was trying to outwit his neighbor; and all who acted otherwise were either weak-witted fools or else pretenders who saw in their hypocrisy the keenest game of all.  Living under the influence of Old Jimmie, and later of Barney, and of the environment in which she had been bred, these beliefs had come to be her religion.  She was thoroughly orthodox, and had the defensive and aggressive fervor which is the temper of militant orthodoxy.