ugh his brain, deriding
him.

Then, as he had listened, had flashed the question: "Is it really too
late?" And he had recalled his old determination that nothing--not even
this--should bar the road to his pursuit. So, at the close of
Dalrymple's explanation, he was straight in his chair, his hands
grasping the arms, every muscle, every nerve, stretched tight, and in
his brain, overcoming the boisterous resonance of Dalrymple's mirth,
rang his old purposeful refrain: "I will! I will! I will!"

Dalrymple had married her, but it wasn't too late yet.

"Jealous old fellow!" Dalrymple chaffed. "No congratulations for Dolly.
Blow up about your notes any time you please. I'll see they're paid."

He took up his hat and stick.

"Want to run along now and break the news to brother-in-law. Sure to
find him. He's a late bird."

George stood up.

"Wait a minute," he said, quietly. "Got to say you've put one over,
Dalrymple. It was crooked, but it's done. You've settled it, haven't
you?"

"Glad you take it reasonably," Dalrymple laughed, turning for the door.

"Wait a minute," George repeated.

Dalrymple paused, apparently surprised at the tone, even and colourless.

"Lambert's somewheres about the place," George explained. "Just stay
here, and I'll find him and send him in."

"Good business!" Dalrymple agreed, sitting down. "Through all the
sooner."

He smiled.

"A little anxious to get home to my wife."

George tried to close his ears. He didn't dare look at the other. He
hurried out, closed the door, and went to Goodhue's office. At sight of
him Lambert sprang from his chair as if startled by an unforeseen record
of catastrophe.

"What's happened?"

"Dalrymple's in my room," George answered without any expression. "He
wants to see you. He'll tell you all about it."

He raised his hands, putting a stop to Lambert's alarmed questions.

"Can't wait. Do just one thing for me. Give me half an hour. Keep
Dalrymple here for half an hour."

Still Lambert cried for reasons.

"Never mind why. You ought to interest each other for that long."

But Lambert tried to detain him.

"Where are you going? Why do you want me to keep him here? You look as
if you'd been struck in the face! George! What goes on?"

George turned impatiently.

"Ask Dalrymple. Then do that one thing for me."

He ran out of the room, picked up his hat and coat, and hastened to the
elevators.

He was caught by the high tide of the homeward