himself accordingly. He was in a hopeless anguish of mind. Oh, that Aunt Caroline should have pressed this cup to his lips.

Through the parlor and into the reception-room. A high-backed chair lay in his path. He placed a foot against it and shot it across the floor, the chair moving on its casters as smoothly as a roller coaster. It hit the wall, spun around and a young woman fell out of it.

Bill halted to stare.

"Holy smoke!"

Then he was across the room, picking her up.

"Oh, I beg a million pardons!"

By this time she was on her feet, very pink in the cheeks and with eyes all amaze. Bill was steadying her with a reassuring hand, but she drew away quickly. It was quite plain that as soon as her surprise passed she would become angry. Bill sensed this in a swift glance.

[Pg 27]

[Pg 27]

"Two million!" he said hastily.

She regarded him uncertainly. Gray eyes, straight nose, pleasant mouth, but rather large, fluffy sort of hair that might be reddish in a strong light—all these things Bill was observing. And then—yes, she had freckles; not aggressive, spacious freckles, but small, timid, delicately tinted freckles—the kind of freckles that are valuable to the right sort of girl. Bill liked freckles.

"Three million," he said, and grinned.

"I'll take you at the last figure," she answered.

"Good. I'm awfully obliged. I suppose there's no use asking if I startled you?"

"Quite useless. You did."

"It was very childish of me," said Bill, more humbly. "You see, the chair was in my way."

"And you refused to be thwarted," she nodded gravely.

"I certainly did. I was angry about something and—say are you kidding me?"

This time she smiled and Bill grinned again, sheepishly.

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