“Vance can’t mix business and sentiment very well,” he ventured. “He has been spending a good bit of time here at Highmount, forgetting some things that he ought to remember. Surely you have discovered his one weakness by this time, haven’t you?” he went on, gravely pleading. “Not that it isn’t tremendously excusable in the present instance, you know. You--er--you are enough to turn any man’s head, Miss Richardia; you are, indeed.” Her little shriek of laughter was sufficient to break any thin skim of ice which may have been congealing between them. “You can be quite as absurd as Mr. Vance, himself, when you try!” she mocked. Then, with the frankness which was all her own: “Are you trying to tell me that I have been playing the part of a modern Delilah, Mr. Carfax!” “Oh, dear, no! But”--he swallowed hard once or twice, and then took the plunge--“but Vance simply couldn’t help falling in love with you. Er--hardly any man could. And it’s--it’s smashing him to perfection. I don’t say that he is admitting the--the little lapse, even to himself; he is too honorable to do that, after he has given his word to Eliz--to Miss Wardwell. But the fact remains.” Miss Richardia laughed again, but now the laugh scarcely rang true. “You are making me out a poor, miserable sinner; though I am a most innocent one, I do assure you,” she protested, not without a suggestion of sarcasm. “What is it you wish me to do?” Carfax needed no one to tell him that he was wading in deep waters, and that another step might put him in over his head. Yet he could not retreat; he had gone too far. “I have been trying to hammer a little common sense into Vance; perhaps I have said more than even a good friend has a right to say. Hitherto it hasn’t done much good; but last night I had a perfectly brilliant inspiration. I wonder if you could be induced to help me carry it out?--just in the interests of a--of a square deal all around, you know.” “Another absurdity?” she queried, half scornfully. “Yes, just that; a--a most ridiculous absurdity. Will you--er--will you marry me, Miss Richardia?” “Most certainly not,” she returned, with a strained little laugh. “Why should I?” “There isn’t any reason at all, of course,” he hastened to say. “But if you would make your answer not quite so--er--so positive: if you would be so generous as to--er--to seem to take it under consideration; just until Vance can get on his feet again----” This time her laughter was wholly mirthful; an abandonment of all hamperings. “Of all preposterous askings!” she gasped. “Are there many more like you, Mr. Carfax--in New York?” “Plenty of them,” he assured her, not too seriously. Then: “It wouldn’t be such a dreadful thing, would it? I can make love very nicely, you know; honestly, I can. And we shouldn’t have to do anything more than to keep up appearances.” She shook her head. “I’m not going to humor you far enough to even pretend to take you seriously,” she declared.