An ordinary declaration of love must be somewhat upsetting, even to the most phlegmatic. A declaration such as Evan Pell had just uttered would have disturbed the serenity of a plaster-of-Paris Venus of Milo. Carmel wished to compare circulation figures; what she actually did was to compare Evan’s declaration with the declaration of love of which she, in common with every other girl, had visualized in her dreams. It would be idle to state that Carmel had never considered Evan as a possible husband. It is doubtful if any unmarried woman ever encounters an available man without considering him as a possible husband--or if any married woman, no matter how virtuous, ever passes an hour in the society of a gentleman without asking herself if this is the individual with whom she may have the great love affair of her life. Love, being the chief business of all women from six to sixty, this is natural and proper. Here was a variant of the common situation. Carmel was informed she was loved, but that she need expect nothing to come of it. No woman could like that. It was a challenge. It was an affront. A gage of battle had been cast, and it is to be doubted if there is a woman alive who would not feel the necessity of making Evan alter his views. Carmel did not want him in the least. Quite the contrary; but, now he had spoken his mind so brusquely, she would never be able to live in ease until he came to want her very much and wore his knees threadbare begging for her. This was wholly subconscious. Carmel did not know it, but, nevertheless, she had determined to make Evan Pell pay fully in the coin of the transaction for the damage done by his ineptitude. With part of her mind on the figures and the rest on Evan Pell, she arrived at certain information. Unquestionably the _Free Press_ had been gaining in circulation. That much she had accomplished. Her policy of reckless disclosure could have no other result, and therefore it must have been good journalism. As for advertising patronage--there, too, she had made progress. Her personal solicitation brought in some few new advertisers and resulted in old patrons enlarging somewhat their space. Also she had taken some business from Litchfield, the largest adjoining town, and, on a visit to the near-by city, she had induced a department store to use half a page weekly. How much of this she could hold was a problem. It became more of a problem within the hour, when no less than three of her patrons called by telephone to cancel. The Busy Big Store canceled a full page which Carmel had labored hard to get; Lancelot Bangs, photographer, and Smith Brothers’ grocery ceased to be assets--and no one of them assigned a reason. It worried her to such an extent that she dropped her work and went to see about it.