"He pretends to be a friend, but in reality he is a suitor--a detestable suitor--and the ties of business bind you closer! I see it all. I--I consider it abominable." Gray's tone was as gay as his demeanor had been thus far, nevertheless he was probing deliberately, and the result appeared to verify his earlier suspicions. Calm as he had appeared to be during that interview in the bank, in reality he had been, and still was, in a state of intense nervous excitement; his mind was galloping; the effect of that clash had been to rouse in him a keen exaltation and a sense of resistless power. If Henry Nelson was seriously interested in this girl, he reasoned, here then was another weapon ready shaped--a rapier aimed at his enemy's breast--and all he had to do was grasp it. That promised to be a pleasant undertaking. Nor had he any doubt of success, for Barbara Parker had aroused his liking so promptly that reason--and experience--told him they must be in close sentimental accord. Even had she proven less responsive, he would still have been confident of himself, for few women remained long indifferent to his zeal, once he deliberately set about winning them. To build upon that subtle, involuntary attraction, therefore, and to profit by it, appeared advisable, nay, necessary, for henceforth all must be grist that came to his mill. In view of his declaration of war, he could afford to scorn no advantage, however direct or indirect its bearing. "Tell me about the Briskows," Barbara demanded. "Of course! I'm dying to do so, but"--Gray looked at his watch--"even the good must lunch. No doubt you abhor the public eating places, but, alas--" "I do. So does everybody who tries them. But our cook has been speculating in shares, and yesterday she stalked majestically from the kitchen. She was a wretched cook, anyhow; but we couldn't afford a better one. We're very poor, dad and I." "Were poor. Not poor any longer, I hope." "Oh, that well! It is exciting, isn't it? Dad has gone out there to see it, so--Yes, I'll lunch with you and be duly grateful." "Where shall we go?" Barbara's brows drew together in a frown of consideration, and Gray told himself that she was even more charming when serious than when smiling. "Wherever we go, we'll be sorry we didn't go somewhere else. We might try the Professor's place. He's a Greek scholar--left his university to get rich quick in the oil fields, but failed. He started a sandwich and pie counter--a good one--and it pays better than a pumper. But we'd have to sit on high stools and be scowled at if we didn't gobble our food and make room for others. Then there is Ptomaine Tommy's. Cafes are good and bad by comparison. After you've been here a few days you'll enjoy Tommy's." "Then I vote for his poison palace. The very name has a thrill to it."