"Granted. I'll admit it wasn't the sort of proposal one reads about in novels---" "But it was precisely as they are in real life, I'm sure. No one has a stereotyped proposal any more. The men always take it for granted and begin planning things before a girl can say no." "Ah, I see it has happened to you," he said, jealous at once. "Well, isn't that the way men do nowadays?" she demanded. "A fellow has to feel reasonably sure, I dare say, before he takes a chance. No one wants to be refused, you know," he admitted. "Oh, by the way, I brought this--er--this ring up with me, Jane." "You darling!" she cried, as the ring slipped down over her finger. And then, for the next hour, they planned and the future seemed a thousand-fold brighter than the present, glorious as it was. "You can't help succeeding," she repeated, "the same as your father has. Isn't he wonderful? Oh, Graydon, I'm so proud of you!" she cried, enthusiastically. "I can never be the man that the governor is," said Graydon, loyally. "I couldn't be as big as father if I lived to be a hundred and twenty-six. He's the best ever! He's done everything for me, Jane," the son went on, warmly. "Why, he even left dear, old New York and came to Chicago for my sake, dear. It's the place for a young man, he says; and he gave up a great practice so that we might be here together. Of course, HE could succeed anywhere. Wasn't it bully of him to come to Chicago just--just for me?" "Yes. Oh, if you'll only be as good-looking as he is when you are fifty-five," she said, so plaintively that he laughed aloud. "You'll probably be very fat and very bald by that time." "And very healthy, if that can make it seem more horrible to you," he added. For some time he sat pondering while she stared reflectively into the fire opposite. Then squaring his shoulders as if preparing for a trying task, he announced firmly: "I suppose I'd just as well see your father to-night, dearest. He likes me, I'm sure, and I--I don't think he'll refuse to let me have you. Do you?" "My dad's just as fair as yours, Gray," she said with a smile. "He's upstairs in his den. I'll go to mother. I know she'll be happy--oh, so happy." Bansemer found David Cable in his room upstairs--his smoking and thinking room, as he called it. "Come in, Graydon; don't stop to knock. How are you? Cigarette? Take a cigar, then. Bad night outside, isn't it?" "Is it? I hadn't--er--noticed," said Graydon, dropping into a chair and nervously nipping the end from a cigar. "Have you been downtown?" "Yes. Just got in a few minutes ago. The road expects to do a lot of work West this year, and I've been talking with the ways and means gentlemen--a polite and parliamentary way to put it." "I suppose we'll all be congratulating you after the annual election, Mr. Cable." "Oh, that's just talk, my boy. Winemann is the logical man for president. But where is Jane?"