“Meantime, while the more important matter is working itself out, let us endeavor to be friends.” As he said this there came into his voice a wistfulness, a humility which touched her. Her eyes filled. She held out her hand. “Friends!... Of course we shall be friends! You must overlook my bad temper. I have so many faults.” His eyes glowed, his face became animated. “You,” he said, eagerly, “are very lovely. You are--er--wonderful....” He stared at her as if she had been an apparition. Carmel caught her breath and turned away abruptly. So much for Evan Pell’s effort to break through his chrysalis shell.... The fates had not determined if he were to become a moth or a butterfly.... At that very hour Abner Fownes was opening his mail. His frame of mind was not of the pleasantest, though he had succeeded in tiding over the day before a situation financially threatening. The condition of his affairs was wearing upon him. Constant calls for money, demands upon his shiftiness to prevent a _débâcle_, never-failing watchfulness, bore heavily upon the man. It was not easy to maintain his attitude of high-spirited public citizen. It was not simple to keep beneath the surface the man who lurked under the skin of the fatuous cat’s-paw. It was difficult to maintain the pretense of being used by smaller men, when constantly he had to twist smaller men to his own ends. Now he opened with trepidation a letter from a lumber concern with which his dealings had been extensive. We have received yours of the 20th with respect to renewing your note for $18,750 which falls due two weeks from to-day. We regret that in present conditions this is impossible, and must ask you to take up this paper without fail. Fownes crumpled the letter in his hand and stared at the paneling of his office as if he hoped by the mere venom of his look to reduce it to ashes. His pudgy, beautifully tailored shoulders moved upward so that his short neck disappeared and his ears rested upon his collar. Then he expelled his breath. He arose and went to the safe, which he opened--to which he alone possessed the combination--and took from its resting place the red leather book in which he kept the true record of his and his company’s condition. This he carried to his desk, and for many minutes he studied it, hoping against hope for some expedient to make itself apparent.... There was no expedient. He returned the book to its place and locked the safe; then he twisted the handle of the telephone insistently, and gave Central the number of the Court House. “Deputy Jenney,” he said, arrogantly. The deputy answered. “Come to my office immediately,” he said. “Never mind who sees. This is imperative.... At once.” Following that, he waited. Deputy Jenney entered, breathless, and stood panting. “Jenney,” said Fownes, “I’ve determined to make another investment.”