This, then, was the end of Marge’s dream of wealth! Occasionally, in other days, he had lost small sums in Wall Street, but only he and his broker knew of it; no one ever knew in what line of stock he operated. But now--why, had not his name been printed again and again among those of E. & W.’s strongest backers? Every one would know of his misfortune: he could no longer pose as a shrewd young financier, much less as a man with as large an income as he had time to enjoy. Would that he had not been so conceited and careless as to mentally give up Lucia, who now, for some reason, persisted in appearing in his mind’s eye! Had he given half as much attention to her as to E. & W., she might now be his, and their wedding-cards might be out. And iron was still looking up, too! How could any one not a lunatic have become so devoted to chance as to throw away a certainty? for she had been a certainty for him, he believed, had he chosen to realize. Alas! with her, as with E. & W., he had been too slow at realizing. CHAPTER XXVI. SOME MINDS RELIEVED. When Tramlay bade good-by to his new partner a few moments after the partnership was verbally formed he wondered which to do first,--return to the club and announce his good fortune to the several other iron men who were members, or go home and relieve the mind of his wife. As he wondered, he carelessly remarked,-- “Which way are you going, Phil?” The young man, who was already starting off at a rapid pace, returned, and said, in a low tone,-- “Can’t you imagine?” The older man took his partner’s hand, and seemed to want to say something. “What is it, Mr. Tramlay?” asked Phil, for the silence was somewhat embarrassing. “My dear fellow,” said the merchant, “a man who has just given away his daughter is usually supposed to have done a great favor.” “As you certainly have done,” Phil replied. “Thank you; for I want to ask one in return. Fathers aren’t sole proprietors of their daughters, you know. Mrs. Tramlay--when you speak to her about the affair, as of course you will, be as--be all--do be your most considerate, courteous self, won’t you?” “I beg you will trust me for that,” said Phil. “I’m sure I can,--or could, if you understood mothers as well as some day you may.” “I have a mother, you know,” suggested Phil. “True, but she had no daughters, I believe? Mothers and daughters--well, they’re not exactly like mothers and sons. Mrs. Tramlay respects you highly, I know, but she may not have seemed as friendly to your suit as you could have liked. Try to forget that, won’t you?--and forgive it, if it has made you uncomfortable?” “I would forgive a bitter enemy to-night, if I had one,” said the excited youth. “That’s right; that’s right: a man has so few chances to feel that way that he ought to improve them all. You’ll even be patient, should it be necessary?” “As patient as Job,” promised Phil.