Templeton Thorpe's amazing will was not mentioned by either of them, although each knew that the subject lay uppermost in the mind of the other. The newspapers printed columns about the instrument. Reporters who laid in wait for Braden Thorpe, however, obtained no satisfaction. He had nothing to say. The same reporters fell upon Anne and wanted to know when she expected to start proceedings to have the will set aside. They seemed astonished to hear that there was to be no contest on her part. She could not tell them anything about the plans or intentions of Dr. Thorpe, and she had no opinion as to the ultimate effect of the "Foundation" upon the Constitution of the United States or the laws of God! As a matter of fact, she was more eager than any one else to know the stand that Braden intended to take on the all-absorbing question. Notwithstanding her peculiar position as executrix of the will under which the conditions were created, she could not bring herself to the point of discussing the salient feature of the document with him. And so there the matter stood, unmentioned by either of them, and absolutely unsettled so far as the man most deeply involved was concerned. Then came the day when Thorpe announced that it was no longer necessary for him to impose upon Simmy's hospitality, and that he was returning that evening to his hotel. George was out of danger. It was then that he said to Anne: "You have been wonderful, Anne. I want to thank you for what you have done to help me. You might have made the situation impossible, but—well, you didn't, that's all. I am glad that you and that poor little woman in there have become such good friends. You can do a great deal to help her—and George. She is a brick, Anne. You will not lose anything by standing by her now. As I said before, you can always reach me by telephone if anything goes wrong, and I'll drop in every morning to—" "I want you to know, Braden, that I firmly believe you saved George for us. I shall not try to thank you, however. You did your duty, of course. We will let Lutie weep on your neck, if you don't mind, and you may take my gratitude for granted." There was a slightly satirical note in her voice. His figure stiffened. "I don't want to be thanked," he said,—"not even by Lutie. You must know that I did not come into this case from choice. But when Lutie insisted I—well, there was nothing else to do." "Would you have come if I had asked you?" she inquired, and was very much surprised at herself. "No," he answered. "You would have had no reason for selecting me, and I would have told you as much. And to that I would have added a very good reason why you shouldn't." "What do you mean?"