as
he did some time afterward, with the idea that he might be able to
dispose of his holdings, he saw no way to do it. The company was really
not in good shape. More money would have to be put in. All the treasury
stock would have to be quickly disposed of, or a reorganization would
have to be effected. The best that could be promised under these
circumstances was that Eugene's holdings might be exchanged for a
fraction of their value in a new issue by a new group of directors. So
Eugene saw the end of his dreams in that direction looming up quite
clearly.

When he saw what Mrs. Dale had done, he saw also that it was necessary
to communicate the situation clearly to Suzanne. The whole thing pulled
him up short, and he began to wonder what was to become of him. With his
twenty-five thousand a year in salary cut off, his prospect of an
independent fortune in Blue Sea annihilated, the old life closed to him
for want of cash, for who can go about in society without money? he saw
that he was in danger of complete social and commercial extinction. If
by any chance a discussion of the moral relation between him and Suzanne
arose, his unconscionable attitude toward Angela, if White heard of it
for instance, what would become of him? The latter would spread the fact
far and wide. It would be the talk of the town, in the publishing world
at least. It would close every publishing house in the city to him. He
did not believe Colfax would talk. He fancied that Mrs. Dale had not,
after all, spoken to Winfield, but if she had, how much further would it
go? Would White hear of it through Colfax? Would he keep it a secret if
he knew? Never! The folly of what he had been doing began to dawn upon
him dimly. What was it that he had been doing? He felt like a man who
had been cast into a deep sleep by a powerful opiate and was now slowly
waking to a dim wondering sense of where he was. He was in New York. He
had no position. He had little ready money--perhaps five or six thousand
all told. He had the love of Suzanne, but her mother was still fighting
him, and he had Angela on his hands, undivorced. How was he to arrange
things now? How could he think of going back to her? Never!

He sat down and composed the following letter to Suzanne, which he
thought would make clear to her just how things stood and give her an
opportunity to retract if she wished, for he thought he owed that much
to her now:

"Flower Face:

I had a talk with Mr. C