bout
things. I wish I could see Dick. Dick will understand. He has seen more
of this life and--oh, he's not so terribly hidebound. And I'll get Dick
to see Barney." She would not acknowledge that she was grateful that
Barney could not come to see her, but she could write him a note and
she could send Dick to him, and in the meantime she would accept the
invitation. "I will accept at once. I wish I had before I read Barney's
note. I really had accepted in my mind, and, besides, the arrangements
were all made. I'll write the letters now." She hastened to burn her
bridges behind her so that retreat might be impossible. "There," she
cried, as she sealed, addressed, and stamped the letters, "I wish they
were in the box. I'm awfully afraid I'll change. But I can't change! I
cannot let this chance go! I have worked too long and too hard! Barney
should not ask it!" A wave of self-pity swept over her, bringing her
temporary comfort. Surely Barney would not cause her pain, would not
force her to give up her great opportunity. She sought to prolong this
mood. She pictured herself a forlorn maiden in distress whom it was
Barney's duty and privilege to rescue. "I'll just go and post these
now," she said. Hastily she put on her hat and ran down with the
letters, fearing lest the passing of her self-pity might leave her to
face again the thought of Barney's inevitable and immovable opposition.

"There, that's done," she said to herself, as the lid of the post box
clicked upon her letters. "Oh, I wonder--I wish I hadn't!" What she
had feared had come to pass. She had committed herself, and now her
self-pity had evaporated and left her face to face with the inevitable
results. With terrible clearness she saw Barney's dark, rugged face with
the deep-seeing eyes. "He always makes you feel in the wrong," she said
impatiently. "You can never think what to say. He always seems right,
and," she added honestly, "he is right generally. Never mind, Dick will
help me." She shook off her load and ran on. At her door she met Dr.
Foxmore.

"Ah, good-morning," smiled the doctor, showing a double row of white
teeth under his waxed mustache. "And how does the fair Miss Lane find
herself this fine morning?"

It took the whole force of Iola's self-mastery to keep the disgust which
was swelling her heart from showing in her face. Here was one of Dr.
Bulling's friends, one of his toadies--and he had a number of them--who
represented to her all that was