the impulsive movement towards her. He took her hand and bowed over it a deep bow, a little quixotic perhaps, and hurried away without trusting himself to speak. Outside he went rushing along as though the blocks were mere steps, swinging his cane and humming to himself gloriously. He was so happy that the thought that any one else could be unhappy, that any disaster could threaten her or any one who belonged to her, seemed incredible. "Everything is going to turn out all right," he repeated to himself confidently. "Everything; I feel it." He went back to the Court radiant and gay and dressed for dinner, surprising Granning, who came in preoccupied and anxious, with the flow of animal spirits. At the sight of his contagious happiness Granning looked at him with a knowing smile. "Well, things aren't so black after all, then?" "You bet they're not!" "Glad to hear it. You had me scared last night. My guess is that something besides stocks and bonds must have cheered you up," he added suspiciously with a wise nod of his head. "Glad to see it, old fellow. You've been mum and gloomy as a hippopotamus long enough." "Have I?" said Bojo, laughing with a little confusion. "Well, I'm not going to be any longer. You're an old hippopotamus yourself." He got him around the knees and flung him with an old time tackle on the couch, and they were scrambling and laughing thus when the telephone rang. It was Patsie's voice, very faint and pitiful. "Have you heard? The Clearing House has refused to clear for the Atlantic Trust. Oh, Bojo, what does it mean?" CHAPTER XXVIII ONE LAST CHANCE Bojo came away from the telephone with a face so grave that Granning greeted him with an involuntary exclamation: "Good heavens, Bojo, what's wrong?" "The Atlantic Trust has gone under. The Clearing House refused to clear. You know what that means." "But, I say, you're not affected. You've been out of the market for months. I say, you didn't have anything up." "No, no," said Bojo grimly. He went and sat down, his head in his hands. "I'm not thinking of myself. Some one else. I can't tell you; you must guess. It will probably all be out soon enough. By George, this is a cropper." "I think I understand," said Granning slowly. He sat down in turn, kicking his toes against the twisted andirons on the hearth. "The Atlantic Trust--and a billion--who knows, a billion and a half deposits! What the deuce are we coming to? It will hit us all--bad times!"