lect what
really comprised his fortune. It was rather a hopeless task, for to save
his life he could not remember whether he had Lake Shore stock or West
Shore stock, and he did not know what Standard Oil was selling at, nor any
of the bank stocks except the Fifth Avenue, which seldom went below forty-
five hundred. There might be a very awkward situation, too, if he couldn't
justify his proposal with facts instead of conjectures. Suppose that she
came out point blank and asked him what he was worth: what could he say?
But then, of course, she wouldn't have to ask such a question. If she
considered it possible to marry him, she would _know_ how much he was
worth without inquiring. As a matter of fact, she probably knew to a
dollar, and that was a great deal more than he knew.

Half an hour passed before she came down. She was wearing her hat and was
buttoning her gloves as she came hurriedly into the room. Simmy had a
startling impression that he had seen a great many women putting on their
gloves as they came into rooms where he was waiting. The significance of
this extraordinary custom had never struck him with full force before. In
the gloom of his present appraisal of himself, he now realised with
shocking distinctness that the women he called upon were always on the
point of going somewhere else.

"Hello, Simmy," cried Anne gaily. He had never seen her looking more
beautiful. There was real colour in her smooth cheeks and the sparkle of
enthusiasm in her big, dark eyes.

He shook hands with her. "Hello," he said.

"I can spare you just twenty minutes, Simmy," she said, peering at the
little French clock on the mantelpiece with the frankest sort of
calculation. "Going to the dressmaker's at five, you know. It's a great
business, this getting married, Simmy. You ought to try it."

"I know I ought," said he, pulling a chair up close to hers. "That's what
I came to see you about, Anne."

She gave a little shriek of wonder. "For heaven's sake, Simmy, don't tell
me that _you_ are going to be married. I can't believe it."

He made note of the emphasis she put upon the pronoun, and secretly
resented it.

"Depends entirely on you, Anne," he said. He looked over his shoulder to
see if any one was within the sound of his voice, which he took the
precaution to lower to what had always been a successful tone in days when
he was considered quite an excellent purveyor of sweet nothings in dim
hallways, shady nooks and un