ose and picked up an evening paper.

She tried the resource of tears. The spectacle of a handsome woman
weeping had brought him temporarily to his senses once before. But this
time, though his manner was as kind as any widow could desire, his words
brought the unfortunate lady no more consolation than his conduct.

"My dear Madge, just look at the thing sensibly. Surely you are old
enough by this time to take a practical view of what after all is a very
simple situation. You laid down the law yourself not five minutes ago,
and laid it down very justly. If two people are unsuitably mated, the
engagement should be broken off. Very well; just try to realize for a
moment what it means to marry a man who is getting fuller and fuller of
beans all the time--at your age, mark you. The fact is, we are just like
two trains rushing in opposite directions. For a moment we may be side
by side, and then--whit!--we have passed each other and are getting a
couple of miles farther apart every minute."

Even this graphic allegory failed to dry her tears.

"You are deserting me--you are breaking my heart!" she wailed.

"Hush, hush," he answered soothingly; "on the contrary, I am sparing
you--sparing you no end of anxiety."

She looked at him like a tragedy queen.

"Have you no thought of how my reputation will suffer, Heriot?"

"How can it suffer? Nobody knows we've been engaged."

"Do you suppose they haven't guessed?"

"Not from anything I've said or done, I can assure you."

She sprang up indignantly.

"Have you no sense of honor?"

"Look here," he answered, with his most ingratiating manner, "I'll be a
son to you, Madge--an affectionate, dutiful--"

"You coward!" she cried.

Heriot found himself alone in his library with his engagement
satisfactorily ended.

CHAPTER V

Andrew had retired to the dining-room. Once the day's eating was over,
this apartment, with its vast space of dignified gloom, its black marble
mantelpiece, and the cloth of indigo plushette which now covered the
table, made the most congenial refuge conceivable. His thoughts were in
exact harmony with everything there, from the Venetian blinds to the
portrait of his great-grandmother. The only discordant element was the
presence of a few errant bread-crumbs, and happily they were under the
table.

It was to this lair that he was tracked by Madge Dunbar. She never
paused to ask if she disturbed him, or gave him any chance of protest,
but a