It was a direct cut, and Fleming felt it as he would have felt the lash of a whip. He turned a dull red and was about to reply, when he caught the menacing look in Joe’s eyes and stopped. He muttered something about a pressing engagement, took up his hat and cane, and with a pretence of haughtiness that failed dismally of its effect, swaggered from the room. CHAPTER II GLOWING HOPES “And now!” exclaimed Joe, as soon as the door had closed on the unwelcome visitor, “tell me, Mabel, what that fellow said or did, and I’ll hunt him up and thrash him within an inch of his life. I’ll make him wish he’d never been born.” “Don’t do anything like that, Joe,” urged the girl. “He’s probably had his lesson, and it isn’t likely I’ll ever be troubled by him again. He’s just an acquaintance that Reggie picked up somewhere, and I’ve only seen him once before to-day. He called at the hotel to see Reggie, and when he found he wasn’t in, he stayed to talk with me. He started in by paying me a lot of compliments and then became familiar and impudent. He seized my hand, and when I sought to pull it away from him he wouldn’t let me. I was getting thoroughly frightened and was going to call out when your knock came at the door. Oh, Joe, I was so glad when I saw who it was!” She was perilously near to tears, and her beautiful eyes were dewy as they looked into his. Joe’s heart beat madly. The words he had been longing to say leaped to his lips, but he choked them back. He did not want to catch her off her guard, to take advantage of her emotions and of her shaken condition. Her acceptance of him at that moment might be due in part to gratitude and relief. He wanted more than that--the unconditional, unreserved surrender of her heart and life into his keeping, based only on affection. So he held himself under control and recompensed himself for his selfdenial by an inward promise to make things interesting for Mr. Beckworth Fleming, if ever that cad’s path and his should cross. “But come,” said Mabel more brightly, as she sank into a chair and motioned Joe to another, “let’s talk about something pleasant.” “About you then,” smiled Joe, his eyes dwelling on her eloquently. “Not poor little me,” she pouted in mock humility. “Who am I compared with the great Joseph Matson about whom all the world is talking--the man who won the championship for the Giants, the hero whose picture to-morrow will hold the place of honor in every newspaper in the country?” “You’re chaffing me now,” laughed Joe.