ng his college career, and, after a courtship that was
a whirlwind of impetuosity on his side, she had agreed to marry him.
He recalled now, with rather bitter recollections of his own blindness,
her seemingly careless curiosity regarding the extent of the Lawrence
wealth and his own expectations. He had told her how, when his father
had died, Jim Lawrence had taken him to rear as his own child and heir.

The boy had grown older and broadened with his short experience in the
world outside the protecting circle that had been round him in
preparatory school and in college, and he determined to write that
night to his guardian the letter he had so long delayed and to
apologize and admit that he had been headstrong and foolish.

During the long ride uptown to the city residence of the Baldwins he
had time to think clearly. He knew that Barney Baldwin was wealthy,
but he was unprepared for the magnificence of the garish house, set
down amid wide lawns in the most exclusive part of the River Drive
section.

Helen Baldwin entered the room in a few moments, and McCarthy gazed at
her in admiring surprise.

She came forward with both hands outstretched, smiling, a strangely
transformed girl from the cold, half-scornful one with whom he had
parted only a short time before.

"I wanted to see you so much, Larry," she said. "I have been so blue
and depressed since I--since we--since we last met. Why didn't you
call?"

"I only reached the city last night," he replied as he took a seat
beside her on a divan. "And--well, Helen, I hardly thought you would
wish to see me."

"You foolish boy," she chided. "Don't you know yet that you must never
take a girl at her word? Of course, I was annoyed to find you playing
baseball with a professional team, but I didn't mean we never were to
meet again."

"I thought your ultimatum settled all that," he answered, ill at ease.
"It was rather a shock to find that you cared more for what I was than
for what I am."

"You know, Larry, that you placed me in a painful position. It isn't
as if I were a rich girl, able to share with the man I love. My father
and mother are not rich, and Uncle Barney has supplied me with
everything. He has spoiled me--and I would make a wretched wife for a
poor man."

"I would not have proposed marriage," said McCarthy quietly, "unless I
had thought I would be able to provide for you as well as your uncle
could. When circumstances were changed I could