"Don't, Lola. Don't talk that way! I never thought a thing like that. I don't deserve to have to hear you say it. When have I denied you anything, when have I asked anything in return, but just that you would care for me? I was wrong to lose my head, of course; you can't help it if that cad of a life-guard has the nerve to hang around you. Can't you let it go at that? Can't you see that I am worried enough, without your turning against me?" "I see," she answered coldly, "that Bob and Mrs. Harlan are coming, and it is hardly necessary to take them into our confidence. Mrs. Harlan has quite enough knowledge of our affairs; I think it is about time we saw the last of her. If you had less to do with women of that class, you might be able to remember that you can't talk to me as though I were one of them." Mrs. Harlan, as they all walked back to the hotel together, could not make up her mind as to just how matters stood. Dick was nervous, that was plain enough, but Lola's mood puzzled her; she was very quiet, very thoughtful, and from time to time, when she looked at Dick, she seemed to be trying to make up her mind. "I don't like it," Mrs. Harlan confided to Bob as they followed the others up the beach. "She's up to something, or I miss my guess. She's dangerous enough when she's in one of her tantrums, but when she's quiet, like she is now--look out. What do you suppose is the matter with her now?" "I don't know," replied Bob thoughtfully, "unless she's hungry." This could hardly have been the explanation, however, for she refused to go in to lunch with the others, and sat at the far end of the veranda, still seemingly in deep thought, until, hearing some one approaching, she looked up and saw Mr. Bradley. Her smile, as she welcomed him, however, had no trace of anything but girlish pleasure, and shrewd as he was, he could not but be flattered by the soft blush on her cheek, and the gladness in her eyes, as she rose to meet him. "Miss Barnhelm," he began quickly, "I am anxious to speak with you, in confidence, before your friends or my daughter come from the dining-room." "Yes, Mr. Bradley." "I have a letter here." As he spoke he drew the letter from his pocket. "I have decided to let you read it, although, as you will see, it is a breach of confidence on my part to do so. It is from Cleveland, from Dick Fenway's father; it may perhaps offend you, but it may be a big help for you to know just how things stand. Here it is." Lola took the letter calmly enough, and read it through without a word. It was dated from Cleveland two days before, and read as follows: "MY DEAR BRADLEY: