Storm mules have the reputation
now that Storm thoroughbreds used to have in Basil's day: and they sell
at a far surer profit.

"Then I sent to an agricultural college for the best scientific farmer
they had, and the best dairyman--a big expense, but they have paid.
Also, we sell our products at city prices, since I persuaded the
railroad to give us a spur here. We've cleared most of the land that
Basil kept for cover, now, and are using every acre of it.--Oh, yes, I
have made money, and I will make more. When I die the girls are going to
be rich. The original Storm property will be divided between them then,
according to Basil's will, you remember."

"I do remember it," said Thorpe, quietly. "There was another provision
in that will.... The girls will never inherit Storm, my dear, because
some day Benoix will come back to you."

She looked away out of the window. "I have given up hope, Jim. Months
now, and no word from him. He has gone. Philip thinks so, too.--But you
are right. If he does come, the girls will not inherit, because I shall
marry him. Even if we are old people, I shall marry him."

She had lifted her head, and her voice rang out as it had rung through
the prison when she cried to her lover that she would wait.

Thorpe kissed her hand. "And when that happens," he said gently, "I want
you to know that Jemima will understand. I can promise that. I shall
teach my wife to know her mother better."

She smiled at him, sadly. She suspected that he was promising a miracle
he could not perform, counting upon an influencing factor that did not
exist. "Was he fatuous enough to believe that Jemima loved him? Her
fears for her child's happiness suddenly became fears for the happiness
of this life-long friend. She felt that she must warn him.

"I wonder if you know just the sort of woman you are marrying, Jim?
Jemima is very intelligent, and like many intelligent people she is a
little--ruthless. Honorable, clear-sighted; but hard. She is more her
father's child than mine. I do not always understand her, but--I do know
that she is not sentimental, Jim dear."

He touched her hand reassuringly. "She has told me that she is not
marrying me for love, if that is what you are trying to say. She has
given me to understand, quite conscientiously, that she is merely
accepting the opportunities I can offer her--I, a dull, middle-aged,
dyspeptic don in a backwater college!" he chuckled. "But," he added--and
the glow in h