"And Clarence Parmiter shall be my best man, and old Andrews shall give you away." "I don't know about old Andrews." "Then old Andrews shan't! So long as I get you I don't care who gives you away; if it comes to that, we'll make it worth the verger's while. Then we'll go off for a whole month, and have a rare old spree." "That sounds inviting." "And while we're away Andrews and Parmiter between them shall get things ship-shape; and when we come back, under her majesty's directions I shall put my shoulder to the wheel and start making her the richest woman in the world--and the happiest." "The conceit of him! Mind you do make me happy. Will you?" "Don't you think I shall?" "If I hadn't hopes in that direction you--wouldn't be where you are." "Where shall we go to?" "Wherever you like." "Then----" He leaned forward and whispered in her ear. She put her arms about his neck and drew him to her. CHAPTER XV MABEL JOYCE When Rodney Elmore got back to his rooms it was somewhat late. Some letters were on the table in his sitting-room, and a telegram from Stella Austin. One of those voluminous telegrams which women send when they are in no mood to consider that each unnecessary word means another halfpenny. It was, indeed, a little letter, in which she expressed both sympathy and disappointment. She was so sorry to hear the bad news about his uncle, and assured him--with apparent disregard of the fact that the message might possibly pass through several persons' hands--that he had much better come to her if he was able, since she would console him as nobody else could. "I shall be terribly disappointed if you do not come," it went on, "so please do come. There are heaps of things I wish to say to you--simply heaps. So mind, Rodney, dear, you are to come some time this evening, and you are to let nothing keep you away from your own Stella." It was a love-letter which this young lady had flashed across the wires at a halfpenny a word, evidently caring nothing if strangers learned what was in her heart so long as he did. He was still considering it when Miss Joyce came into the room with a decanter and a glass upon a tray. "Miss Austin's been to see you," she observed. "I suppose that telegram's from her." "Did she tell you it was from her?" "She came in and looked about her at pretty nearly everything, and saw it lying on the table, and said she'd sent you a telegram, and supposed that was it. I thought she was going to walk off with it, but she didn't. I expected she'd want to stop till you came in, as Miss Patterson did last night, but I told her I knew you'd an important engagement in the City, and knew you wouldn't be in till very late; so she went." "Thank you; I'm glad she didn't stay." "I thought you would be. She asked me if I was the servant. I don't think she liked the look of me."