d apparently unprejudiced argument. He was firm in his
determination to clip Anne's claws; he would take no chances with youth,
ultimate propinquity, and the wiles of a repentant sinner.

"You can guard against anything," said he in his wisdom, "except the
beautiful woman who repents. You never can tell what she'll do to make her
repentance satisfactory to everybody concerned. So we'll take no chances
with Anne. We'll put her in irons, my boy, so to speak."

And so it was that Braden, worn and disspirited, gave up in despair and
prepared for his return to London. He went before an examining board in
New York first and obtained his licence to become a practising physician
and surgeon, and, with a set expression in his disillusioned eyes, peered
out into the future in quest of the fame that was to take the place of a
young girl's love.

He met his first patient in the Knickerbocker Cafe. Lunching alone there
one day, a week before the date selected for sailing, he was accosted by
an extremely gay and pretty young woman who came over from a table of four
in a distant corner of the room.

"Is this Dr. Braden Thorpe?" she inquired, placing her hands on the back
of the chair opposite and leaning forward with a most agreeable, even
inviting smile.

Her face was familiar. "Since day before yesterday," he replied, rising
with a self-conscious flush.

"May I sit down? I want to talk to you about myself." She sat down in the
chair that an alert waiter pulled out for her.

"I am afraid you are labouring under a misapprehension," he said. "I--I am
not what you would call a practising physician as yet."

"Aren't you looking for patients?" she inquired. "Sit down, please."

"I haven't even an office, so why should I feel that I am entitled to a
patient?" he said. "You see, I've just got my licence to practice. As
things go, I shouldn't have a client for at least two years. Are you
looking for a doctor?"

"I saw by the papers this morning that the grandson of Mr. Templeton
Thorpe was a regular doctor. One of my friends over there pointed you out
to me. What is your fee for an appendicitis operation, Dr. Thorpe?"

"Good--ahem! I beg your pardon. You really startled me. I--"

"Oh, that's all right. I quite understand. Hard to grasp at first, isn't
it? Well, I've got to have my appendix out sooner or later. It's been
bothering me for a year, off and on. Everybody tells me I ought to have it
out sometime when it isn't botherin