t to help me!"

And with that she went quickly from the room and left him to breakfast
alone.

He marvelled for a little at her agitation, and then the contents of the
letter absorbed him again. He had better go and see Gardner, he
reflected; and then, if the thing really seemed secure, he would take
Dick Kenyon on his way back--perhaps lunch with him, and explain matters
in a friendly way. There was certainly nothing for Violet to make a fuss
about. He was quite fully convinced that the fellow wouldn't care.
Marriage was a mere incident to men of his stamp.

So, cheerily at length, having disposed of his breakfast, he rose,
collected his correspondence, which consisted for the most part of
bills, and, whistling light-heartedly, took his departure.

IV

"Now," said Dick Kenyon, in his easy, self-assured accents, "sit down
right there, sonny, and tell me what's on your mind."

He pressed Jerry into his most comfortable chair with hospitable force.

Jerry submitted, because he could not help himself, rather than from
choice. Patronage from Dick Kenyon was something of an offence to his
ever-ready pride.

As for Dick, he had not apparently the smallest suspicion of any latent
resentment of this nature in his visitor's mind. He brought out a box of
choice cigars, and set them at Jerry's elbow. They had just lunched
together at Kenyon's rooms; and it had been quite obvious to the latter
that Jerry had been preoccupied throughout the meal.

Having furnished his guest with everything he could think of to ensure
his comfort, he proceeded deliberately to provide for his own.

Jerry was not quite at his ease. He sat with the unlighted cigar between
his fingers, considering with bent brows. Kenyon looked at him at last
with a faint smile.

"If I didn't know it to be an impossibility," he said, "I should say you
were shying at something."

Jerry turned towards him with an air of resolution.

"Look here, Kenyon," he said, in his slightly superior tones, "I have
really come to talk to you about your engagement to my sister."

He paused, aware of a change in Kenyon's expression, but wholly unable
to discover of what it consisted.

"What about it?" said Kenyon.

He was on his feet, searching the mantelpiece for an ash-tray. His face
was turned from Jerry, but could he have seen it fully, it would have
told him nothing.

Jerry went on, with a strong effort to maintain his ease of manner:

"We've been think