nd
drew up to the place where Barney Conlon's gang still labored in the
trench.

"What is it, Conlon?" asked Brassfield.

"I was wonderin', sir," said Conlon, hat in hand, "if I could see you
at your office in a half-hour or so. I'd not ask it, sir, if it wasn't
important. It's about the business you was speakin' to me about this
marnin'."

"Ah, yes: the pipe-line," said Brassfield. "Be at the office in half
an hour, Conlon. Drive to the top of the hill, William. So goes our
search for new thrills--road runs slap into pipe-lines and business,
dearie."

"Well, we mustn't find fault with it for that," said she. "I've wanted
to say to you--since the other evening--that I can see widening vistas
showing oceans of good things I never reckoned on in the least. And
when I get unreasonable and generally brutal and abusive, I am not
really and fundamentally so any more than I am now!"

"I know, dearest; I know, Bessie. And, now, don't give yourself a
minute's uneasiness about anything that took place. I apologize for
everything out of the proper which I said----"

"Which you _said_?"

"Yes--yes! You were quite right, and I never loved you more than
then--except now. Let's not allude to it again, but just go on as
before."

"Not quite as before," said she. "I'll not ask you why you kept back
so many of your--your _my_--qualities from me--_must_ you get down here
at this old counting-room?--and I'll only ask you two questions--cramp
the carriage a little more, William! One is, where can I get a copy of
the first edition of Child's _Scottish Ballads_--wasn't that the name
of the 'Dark Tower' book?"

"You may search me, Bessie," said he, standing by the curb in front of
his office. "Don't think I ever heard of it."

"Oh, Eugene!" cried Elizabeth, "don't take that attitude again! But
bring it up to me when you come to begin our readings in _Pippa
Passes_!"

"Ah! Now you are joking! Good-by, Bess. Unless I'm run over between
now and eight-thirty, you may look for me. By-by!"

Not quite so fortunate, this last five minutes of conversation. But
all unaware of that fact, Brassfield went back into the private office,
and found Conlon awaiting him. Brassfield opened a drawer and drew out
a roll of drawings and typewritten specifications.

"Now as to this contract, Conlon----" he began.

"Ixcuse me, Misther Brassfield," interrupted Conlon, "but the contract
may wait: some things won't. What's the ma