s own, and it isn't everybody who would have
swallowed that physic."

"I could not well avoid doing so," said Geoffrey, with a rueful smile.

"I feel I owe you an apology, but it's my sister-in-law's one weakness,
and you have won her favor for the rest of your natural life," Savine
returned. "You have had several distinguished fellow-sufferers,
including provincial representatives and railroad directors, for to my
horror she physicked a very famous one the last time he came. He did
not suffer with your equanimity. In fact, he was almost uncivil, and
said to me, 'If the secretary hadn't sent off your trestle contract, I
should urge the board to reconsider it. Did you ask me here that your
relatives might poison me, Savine?'"

Geoffrey laughed, and his host added:

"I want to talk over a good many details with you, and dare say you
deserve a holiday--I know I do--so I shall retain you here for a week,
at least. I take your consent for granted; it's really necessary."

CHAPTER IX

GEOFFREY STANDS FIRM

Geoffrey Thurston possessed a fine constitution, and, in spite of Mrs.
Savine's treatment and her husband's predictions, rose refreshed and
vigorous on the morning that followed his struggle with the bicycle.
It was a glorious morning, and when breakfast was over he enjoyed the
unusual luxury of lounging under the shadow of a cedar on the lawn,
where he breathed in the cool breeze which rippled the sparkling
straits. Hitherto, he had risen with the sun to begin a day of toil
and anxiety and this brief glimpse of a life of ease, with the
pleasures of congenial companionship, was as an oasis in the desert to
him.

"A few days will be as much as is good for me," he told himself with a
sigh. "In the meantime hard work and short commons are considerably
more appropriate, but I shall win the right to all these things some
day, if my strength holds out."

His forehead wrinkled, his eyes contracted, and he stared straight
before him, seeing neither the luminous green of the maples nor the
whispering cedars, but far off in the misty future a golden
possibility, which, if well worth winning, must be painfully earned.
His reverie was broken suddenly.

"Are your thoughts very serious this morning, Mr. Thurston?" a clear
voice inquired, and the most alluring of the visions he had conjured up
stood before him, losing nothing by the translation into material
flesh. Helen Savine had halted under the cedar. In so