"Concerning _us_?" "Certainly.... As it is, I believe I’m more than half in love with you, anyway, Christine." She blushed again, looking at him with her pretty, frank, brown eyes; and they both laughed happily. "It’s the first time in all my life that I’ve been of any use in the world," he said. "You _did_ ask father?" she inquired, still charmingly flushed; "didn’t you?" "I certainly did. He said: ’Is young Inwood such a particular friend of yours?’ I said: ’He is!’ He said: ’All right; ask my wife.’ So I asked your mother, and she said: ’Oh, please, Mr. Edgerton, invite anybody you wish to.’ So I wrote Billy Inwood, and your bully little mother inclosed my letter in the sweetest note of her own; and now he has telegraphed——" "Telegraphed?" "I’ve just received the message." He fished it out of his coat pocket, and handed it to her, and she read: "On my way! "BILL." "Is _that_ all?" she asked, half laughing, half excited. "He telegraphed your mother the substance of a moderate-sized letter. She’s probably in her room now, reading it. She showed it to me in amazement, but I didn’t have time to follow all his polite and grateful meanderings." "I wish to see it!" said the girl excitedly. "Go ahead; your mother has it. I was anxious to let you know how matters had turned out, first." "You’re a dear!" she repeated, and her voice was not any too steady. "I am happy; I am happier than I’ve been for—" She checked herself, and bent her head for a moment; he pretended to reread the telegram. "It will be all right now," he observed. "I wish I knew," she said under her breath. "Don’t you?" She lifted her honest eyes to his. "How can I know, Jim? I don’t know how men are. It all happened over a year ago.... I was no wiser than a schoolgirl. What experience had I—with such episodes—such conditions—or with anything?" "You did act like a schoolgirl—to send him about his business," said Edgerton with a shrug. "I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t—hadn’t——" "Cared for him?" "Loved him," she said steadily. "You’re a corker, Christine!" he said in genuine admiration. "Am I? Thank you, Jim." "Yes, you are; and so is Billy Inwood—the real Billy. Young men like to chase about with married women. They love to delude themselves into the pleasing belief that they are sad dogs——" "There was more to it than that," said the girl; "he went to Keno to see her. That is what confounded me." "While she was getting her divorce?" "Yes." "Then you can bet that there was nothing in it, you little goose.... Who was she, anyway?" "A Mrs. Atherstane. Do you know her?" "No," said Edgerton; "and you certainly did act like a schoolgirl." "I know I did, and I was twenty.... I asked him to come, to Hot Springs; she requested him to go to Keno. He took his choice; he had a perfect right to.... And then I wrote him that letter, dismissing him."