illing that she should do
so. But Ferdy had no idea of allowing himself to be forgotten. For a
time he paid quite devoted attention to Alice Yorke; but Miss Alice
looked on his attentions rather as a joke. She said to him:

"Now, Ferdy, I am perfectly willing to have you send me all the flowers
in New York, and go with me to the theatre every other night, and offer
me all the flattery you have left over from Louise; but I am not going
to let it be thought that I am going to engage myself to you; for I am
not, and you don't want me."

"I suppose you reserve that for my fortunate rival, Mr. Lancaster?" said
the young man, insolently.

Alice's eyes flashed. "At least not for you."

So Ferdy gradually and insensibly drifted back to Mrs. Wentworth. For a
little while he was almost tragic; then he settled down into a state of
cold cynicism which was not without its effect. He never believed that
she cared for Norman Wentworth as much as she cared for him. He believed
that her mother had made the match, and deep in his heart he hated
Norman with the hate of wounded pride. Moreover, as soon as Mrs.
Wentworth was beyond him, he began to have a deeper feeling for her than
he had ever admitted before. He set before himself very definitely just
what he wanted to do, and he went to work about it with a patience
worthy of a better aim. He flattered her in many ways which, experience
had told him, were effective with the feminine heart.

Ferdy Wickersham estimated Mrs. Wentworth's vanity at its true value;
but he underestimated her uprightness and her pride. She was vain
enough to hazard wrecking her happiness; but her pride was as great as
her vanity.

Thus, though Ferdy Wickersham flattered her vanity by his delicate
attentions, his patient waiting, he found himself, after long service,
in danger of being balked by her pride. His apparent faithfulness had
enlisted her interest; but she held him at a distance with a resolution
which he would not have given her credit for.

Most men, under such circumstances, would have retired and confessed
defeat; but not so with Ferdy Wickersham. To admit defeat was gall and
wormwood to him. His love for Louise had given place to a feeling almost
akin to a desire for revenge. He would show her that he could conquer
her pride. He would show the world that he could humble Norman
Wentworth. His position appeared to him impregnable. At the head of a
great business, the leader of the gayest set