It did not trouble Baird in the least that he was expected to make a return for what he received--his experience had taught him that life was run largely on that basis--but he was stung by the thought that Judith had smiled on him for a purpose. He had mentioned his plans to no one; it spoke well for her keenness that she had divined the industry he had selected for his own advancement. But if she expected to gain more from a bargain than he did, she was mistaken. It was perhaps as well that Judith did not see his expression. His voice did not lose its pleasing quality, however. "Garvin has some capital, I suppose?" "Very little, I am afraid," Judith said regretfully. Baird did not say, "But his brother has." He looked down at her, studying her clear-cut features closely. Evidently he had been right when he had decided that she was cold; she had simply unbent for a purpose. Aloud he said, "The manufacture of automobiles is going to be a tremendous industry. I have some automobile connections--I'll talk to Garvin a little." It was not his voice that acquainted Judith with the chill he felt; she simply sensed it. She looked up at him. "That was the favor I was going to ask of you," she said softly. "Just to talk to Garvin a little and interest him in some plan that will get him away from all this." She indicated their surroundings by a gesture. "The family traditions have very little hold on Garvin--they make him impatient and dissatisfied. You see, I am older than my brother and I have had a great deal of responsibility. I feel more like a mother than a sister to him. His dissatisfaction worries me terribly. It would be doing me a very great favor if you would interest yourself a little in Garvin.... We Westmores rarely ask favors, Mr. Baird, and only of those whom we really like. I have so much confidence in you." Judith's voice was sweet and pleading at the end; her hand stole out from her cape and touched his arm. She had lifted him quickly out of coldness into something warmer than admiration. His doubts had melted like a fog under sunshine. He took her hand and kissed it. "There are few things I would not do for you, Wonder-woman.... Thank you, dear." He would have kept her hand, but she drew it away, and Baird was almost instantly glad that she did. He was forgetting himself. The thing he liked best in her was her aloofness. "I've often wanted to thank you for the way you have taken me in and made me feel at home," he declared. "I've never had much of that sort of kindness shown me--I appreciate it." "I want you to feel at home at Westmore," she answered. "You must come often--and always be nice to me." She had regained her usual graceful vivacity. "Some day we will ride all over the place and you shall become really acquainted with it.... Do you see that group of trees beyond there, against the sky? That is our family burying-ground--generations of Westmores. There are several quaint tombstones up there."