"Almost out of patience!" repeated Dr. Crossett scornfully. "A bad mood in which to begin a lifelong companionship with even the best of women. Come." He put his hand almost playfully on the Doctor's shoulder and shook him gently. "Facts! Always stick to the facts. We know her. She is a good girl. We love her. There is no more to say." "If it is money she wants," exclaimed Dr. Barnhelm bitterly, "I will make it for her. It isn't that I think anything money can buy too good for her, but for her to be selfish." "Hush," said Paul very tenderly. "She has no mother; we must remember that. We are men, and we stand helpless before her womanhood, like children in the dark. Now! We will say no more. We will go to the bank to-day, while there is time. We will get that money, and to-morrow night, before the Medical Society, you shall make your name big, famous. Eh?" "If I do," exclaimed Dr. Barnhelm gratefully, "I shall have you to thank for it." "She shall thank me, Martin. You will tell her that part of the silks, and ribbons, and laces that you buy for her come from me. Eh? She will love me then. Come." Dr. Crossett allowed Dr. Barnhelm no time for remonstrance, but insisted so firmly that they should go at once to the bank that he was obliged to agree, and leaving a message for Lola that they would soon return, they descended in the elevator and walked briskly down the Drive, the Frenchman declaring that it was nothing short of a crime to ride on such a day, and he kept up such a flood of cheerful talk and happy reminiscence that, in spite of his deep humiliation, Dr. Barnhelm soon found himself laughing merrily. In the meantime things were not going smoothly in Lola's sitting room in the apartment. John Dorris had for some hour or more been doing his best to win Lola into a promise of an early marriage, and in spite of his best resolution he found himself rapidly growing impatient. "It is no use, John!" Lola spoke almost angrily. "The more we talk of it, the less we seem to agree. I do not care to be married before winter." "This is the third time you have changed the date," remonstrated John. "I am beginning to think that----" "Well?" She interrupted sharply and with so much of challenge in her manner that John had to curb his rising indignation as he replied. "If I am not careful we will quarrel again, and we have done more than enough of that lately." "I am sure I can't help it, John, if you choose to be cross and unreasonable." "Has it all been my fault?" "No, of course not," cried Lola, with one of the sudden changes of mood that had so often puzzled him of late. "I have been perfectly horrid, I know, and I won't be any more. Just forgive me, John--and--and"--she looked up at him sweetly--"and kiss me, if you want to." John stooped and kissed her, and asked earnestly, "And we shan't postpone the wedding again, shall we?" "Only a little while, dear." He turned angrily away, but she caught his arm.