ood, without any of the feverish
turmoil of life as we know it. Such a world would not appeal to me
at all. I love the fray--the daily battle of gain and loss, the
excitement of making or losing millions. That is my life!"

"Yet what good is your money to you?" insisted Shirley. "You are
able to spend only an infinitesimal part of it. You cannot even
give it away, for nobody will have any of it."

"Money!" he hissed rather than spoke, "I hate money. It means
nothing to me. I have so much that I have lost all idea of its
value. I go on accumulating it for only one purpose. It buys
power. I love power--that is my passion, my ambition, to rule the
world with my gold. Do you know," he went on and leaning over the
desk in a dramatic attitude, "that if I chose I could start a
panic in Wall Street to-morrow that would shake to their
foundations every financial institution in the country? Do you
know that I practically control the Congress of the United States
and that no legislative measure becomes law unless it has my
approval?"

"The public has long suspected as much," replied Shirley. "That is
why you are looked upon as a menace to the stability and honesty
of our political and commercial life."

An angry answer rose to his lips when the door opened and Mrs.
Ryder entered.

"I've been looking for you, John," she said peevishly. "Mr. Bagley
told me you were somewhere in the house. Senator Roberts is
downstairs."

"He's come about Jefferson and his daughter, I suppose," muttered
Ryder. "Well, I'll see him. Where is he?"

"In the library. Kate came with him. She's in my room."

They left Shirley to her writing, and when he had closed the door
the financier turned to his wife and said impatiently:

"Now, what are we going to do about Jefferson and Kate? The
senator insists on the matter of their marriage being settled one
way or another. Where is Jefferson?"

"He came in about half an hour ago. He was upstairs to see me, and
I thought he was looking for you," answered the wife.

"Well," replied Ryder determinedly, "he and I have got to
understand each other. This can't go on. It shan't."

Mrs. Ryder put her hand on his arm, and said pleadingly:

"Don't be impatient with the boy, John. Remember he is all we
have. He is so unhappy. He wants to please us, but--"

"But he insists on pleasing himself," said Ryder completing the
sentence.

"I'm afraid, John, that his liking for that Miss Rossmore is more
serious