lings. He had never thought of Frank as belonging in Vona's
calculations. He had never considered even the linking of their names,
much less their interests.

But Mr. Britt, having made money his idol, could not understand worship
directed to any other shrine. His face cleared while he pondered. A girl
who frankly declared at all times that she would do 'most anything to
help her family out of their troubles was not of a mind to hitch up with
another pauper--a combination of choreman and cashier--even though
she had linked their names casually in speech. And Mr. Britt mouthed
mumblingly some of the sentiments he had put into words that morning
when he arose. He smoothed down the top piece and looked more at ease.
He smiled when he reflected on what he would have to say to her after
Emissary Orne had returned with something in the line of fruits from
the Promised Land. His self-assurance revived; nevertheless, he tiptoed
along the corridor and listened at the door of the bank.

The reassuring swish of a broom and their casual chatter--he heard only
those commonplace sounds!

She was asking Vaniman if he had mislaid her dustcloth.

Vaniman replied in a tone which indicated that the two were at some
distance from each other. There was no subdued conference--no murmuring
of mushiness such as a meeting in the morning might be expected to
elicit in case there was any sort of an understanding between them. Mr.
Britt tiptoed away from the door and braced back his shoulders and gave
himself a shake of satisfied confidence, and went serenely into his
office, plucking a cigar from his vest pocket. By permitting himself to
smoke again he was breaking the habit of confining himself to one cigar
after breakfast. But many men in moments of exaltation seek tobacco or
alcohol.

Mr. Britt felt that he had broken the ice, at any rate. Mr. Britt
decided that the girl was heart-free and entertained sensible ideas
about the main chance--and she had had a good word to say about Britt's
kind heart. Mr. Britt was sure that Frank Vaniman knew his place and was
keeping it. Therefore, Mr. Britt lighted a fresh cigar and blew visible
smoke rings and inflated invisible mental bubbles and did not pay any
more attention to what Prophet Elias was saying outside. And as if the
Prophet had received a psychological hint that his text shafts were no
longer penetrating the money king's tough hide, the diminuendo of his
orotund marked the progress of hi