nd mine are destined
to cross in more ways than one in the near future," said Spencer
coolly.

But the vicar was not to be switched away from the new thought that
was troubling him. "I will not ask what you mean," he said, gazing
steadfastly at the American. "My chief concern is the outcome of my
share in this evening's pleasant amusement. I cannot shut my ears to
the fact that you have planned the loss or gain of some thousands of
pounds on the turn of a card at baccarat."

"If it is disagreeable to you----"

"How can it be otherwise? I am a broad-minded man, and I see no harm
whatever in playing bridge for pennies; but I am more pained than I
care to confess at the prospect of such a sequel to our friendly
meeting to-night. If this thing happens,--if a small fortune is won or
lost merely to gratify Dunston's whim,--I assure you that I shall
never touch a card again as long as I live."

Then Spencer laughed. "That would be too bad, Mr. Hare," he cried.
"Make your mind easy. The game is off. Count on me for the tenpence a
hundred limit after dinner to-morrow."

"Now, that is quite good and kind of you. Dunston made me very
miserable by his mad proposition. Of course, both he and Bower are
rich men, men to whom a few thousand pounds are of little importance;
or, to be accurate, they profess not to care whether they win or lose,
though their wealth is not squandered so heedlessly when it is wanted
for some really deserving object. But perhaps that is uncharitable. My
only wish is to thank you from the bottom of my heart for your
generous promise."

"Is Bower so very rich then? Have you met him before?"

"He is a reputed millionaire. I read of him in the newspapers at
times. In my small country parish such financial luminaries twinkle
from a far sky. It is true he is a recent light. He made a great deal
of money in copper, I believe."

"What kind of character do you give him,--good, bad, or indifferent?"

Hare's benevolent features showed the astonishment that thrilled him
at this blunt question. "I hardly know what to say----" he stammered.

Spencer liked this cheery vicar and resolved to trust him. "Let me
explain," he said. "You and I agree in thinking that Miss Wynton is an
uncommonly nice girl. I am not on her visiting list at present, so my
judgment is altruistic. Suppose she was your daughter or niece, would
you care to see her left to that man's mercies?"

The clergyman fidgeted a little before he ans