“Evelyn Duncan is in love with you,” Cynthia said, abruptly, her glance on the ground. “That's ridiculous,” Floyd laughed. “Simply ridiculous.” “I know--I saw it in her face when you said you were going home with me. She could have bitten my head off.” “Good gracious, I've never talked with her more than two or three times in all my life.” “That may be, but she has heard dozens of people say it will be just the thing for you to marry her, and she has wondered--” Cynthia stopped. “Look here, little woman, we've had enough of this,” Floyd said, abruptly. “I saw the light in your room the other night, and I stood and whistled and whistled, but you wouldn't come to me. I had a lot to tell you.” “I told you I'd never meet you that way again, and I meant it.” Cynthia was looking straight into his eyes. . “I know you did, but I thought you might relent. I was chock full of my new discovery--or rather Pole Baker's--and I wanted to pour it out on you.” “Of course, you are happy over it?” Cynthia said, tentatively. “It has been the one great experience of my life,” said Floyd, impressively. “No one who has not been through it, Cynthia, can have any idea of what it means. It is on my mind at night when I go to bed; it is in my dreams; it is in my thoughts when I get up.” “I wanted to know about your mother,” ventured the girl, reverently. “What was she like?” “That is right where I'm in the dark,” Floyd answered. “Pole didn't get my new relative to say a thing about her. I would have written to him at length, but Pole advised me to wait till I could see him personally. My uncle seems to be a crusty, despondent, unlucky sort of old fellow, and, as there was a kind of estrangement between him and my father, Pole thinks it would irritate him to have to answer my letters. However, I am going down to Atlanta to call on him next Wednesday.” “Oh, I see,” said Cynthia. “Speaking of Pole Baker--I suppose you heard of what the White Caps did the other night?” “Yes, and it pained me deeply,” said Floyd, “for I was the indirect cause of the whole trouble.” “You?” “Yes, Pole is this way: It is usually some big trouble or great joy that throws him off his balance, and it was the good news he brought to me that upset him. It was in my own room at the hotel, too, that he found the whiskey. A bottle of it was on my table and he slipped it into his pocket and took it off with him. I never missed it till I heard he was on a spree. His friends are trying to keep his wife from finding out about the White Caps.” “They needn't trouble further,” Cynthia said, bitterly. “I was over there yesterday. Mrs. Snodgrass had just told her about it, and I thought the poor woman would die. She ordered Mrs. Snodgrass out of the house, telling her never to darken her door again, and she stood on the porch, as white as death, screaming after her at the top of her voice. Mrs. Snodgrass was so frightened that she actually broke into a run.”