"We've come to a show-down now, Caroline,--either I sit in this game, or get out." He could imagine Billy bringing Caroline bluntly to terms with comparatively little effort. That was what she needed--Caroline--a strong hand. Billy's problem was simple. Caroline had already signified her preference for him. She wore his ring. Billy had only to pick her up, kicking and screaming if need be, and bear her to the altar. She would marry him if he insisted. That was clear to the most superficial of observers,--but Nancy was different. The day was hot, and grew steadily hotter. By the time Nancy and Caroline were actually in the car, after an almost superhuman effort to assemble them and their various accessories of veils and wraps, and to dispose of the assortment of errands and messages that both girls seemed to be committed to despatch before they could pass the boundaries of Greater New York, the two men were very nearly exhausted. It was only when the chauffeur let the car out to a speed greatly in excess of the limitations on some clear stretch of road, that the breath of the country brought them any relief whatsoever. Dick looked over his shoulder at the two in the back seat, and noted Caroline's pallor, and the fact that she was allowing a listless hand to linger in Billy's; but when he turned back to Nancy he discovered no such encouraging symptoms. She was sitting lightly relaxed at his side, but there was nothing even negatively responsive in her attitude. Her color was high; her breath coming evenly from between her slightly parted lips. She looked like a child oblivious to everything but some innocent daydream. "You look as if you were dreaming of candy and kisses, Nancy,--are you?" he asked presently. "No, I'm just glad to be free. It's been a long time since I've played hooky." "I know it." The "dear" constrained him, and he did not add it: "You've been working most unholy hard. I--I hate to have you." "But I was never so happy in my life." "That's good." His voice hoarsened with the effort to keep it steady and casual. "Is everything going all right?" "Fine." "Is--is the money end of it all right?" "Yes, that is, I am not worrying about money." "You're not making money?" "No." "You are not losing any?" "I am--a little. That was to be expected, don't you think so?" "How much are you losing?" "I don't know exactly." "You ought to know. Are you keeping your own books?" "Betty helps me." "Are you losing a hundred a month?" "Yes." "Five hundred?" "I suppose so." "A thousand?" "I don't really know." "A thousand?" he insisted. "Yes," Nancy answered recklessly, "the way I run it." "It doesn't make any difference, of course;" Dick said, "you've got all my money behind you." "I haven't anybody's money behind me except my own." "You had fifteen thousand dollars. Do you mean to say that you have any of that left to draw on?" "No, I don't." "Do you mind telling me how you are managing?"