"Renew it--say, until the end of next March, up to but not including the next annual meeting," directed Armstrong. "That leaves me free. You and Wren can handle anything that Findlater or his crowd may bring up. Send over the papers at once. Findlater won't object? He's rather puffed up over his job of president, these days." "I'd like to see him object!" said Macgowan, drily. Thus it had been arranged. Now, watching visions in the ruddy flames, Armstrong's heart warmed to the thought of his friend. Few men had such a bar of steel at their back! Best of all, he had not bought Macgowan with gold. He had bought him with friendship, with the fairy coin of a mutual dream. "I must be luckier than most," mused Armstrong. "They say that a man has only one person who'll never go back on him--his wife. But I have two. My wife, and Mac." "A penny for your thoughts!" said a laughing voice in his ear. Armstrong started, came to his feet, and smiled into the eyes of Dorothy. "It'll take something better than a penny," he retorted gayly. "Not here--not here in the lobby, you shameless creature!" Dorothy drew back hastily, her eyes dancing. "I'll pay, and with interest! What were you thinking about, as you sat there smiling into the fire?" "About you," he answered promptly. "And how lucky I am to have both you and a friend! Your faith and love, and the friendship of Lawrence Macgowan." He fancied that a faint shadow leaped into her eyes. The fancy was dissipated by her burst of hearty laughter. "Oh! You should put it the other way--he's lucky to have you for a friend! Well, my letters are finished and I'm ready for a walk. Are you?" "With you--always! I hope everybody in sight knows we're bride and groom!" "They do, and I don't care a bit! Come on." They went out arm in arm, laughing together. CHAPTER IV There are two dreams which every developed and normal woman cherishes. One, of wee hands at her breast. The other, that she may some day have either the building, or the complete rebuilding, of a home; and it is always more enjoyable to correct and profit by the mistakes of other folk than it is to make our own mistakes. Aircastle Point fulfilled this latter dream for Dorothy Armstrong. The point itself was private property, owned by the dozen men who had their homes here; around its islands and properties swept the sea-tides, with Long Island Sound opening out beyond. Lying within the corporate limits of a town once famed as being forty-five minutes from Broadway, Aircastle Point was both remote from the citied roar yet near enough to New York.