“I am sorry. Oh, I am so sorry,” she wailed, gently as a breath of summer wind. For she saw now that the cleavage between them was too wide for a girl’s efforts to bridge. “That I am going to win?” he smiled gravely. “That you must be enemies; that he came here to ruin you, since you say he did.” “You need not be too hard on him for that. By his code I am a freebooter and a highwayman. Business offers legitimate ways of robbery, and I transgress them. His ways are not my ways, and mine are not his, but it is only fair to say that his are the accepted ones.” “I don’t understand it at all. You are both good men. I know you are. Surely you need not be enemies.” But she knew she could hope for no reassurance from the man beside her. Presently she led him back across the big room to the fireplace near where her husband lay. His secretary had gone, and he was lying resting on the lounge. He opened his eyes and smiled at her. “Has Mr. Ridgway been pointing out to you the places of interest?” he asked quietly. “Yes, dear.” The last word came hesitantly after the slightest of pauses. “He says he must be going now.” The head of the greatest trust on earth got to his feet and smiled benignantly as he shook hands with the departing guest. “I shall hope to see you very soon and have a talk regarding business, Mr. Ridgway,” he said. “Whenever you like, Mr. Harley.” To the girl he said merely, “Good night,” and was gone. The old man put an arm affectionately across his young wife’s shoulder. “Shall we read another psalm, my dear? Or are you tired?” She repressed the little shiver that ran through her before she answered wearily. “I am a little tired. If you don’t mind I would like to retire, please.” He saw her as far as the door of her apartments and left her with her maid after he had kissed the cold cheek she dutifully turned toward him. CHAPTER X. HARLEY MAKES A PROPOSITION Apparently the head of the great trust intended to lose no time in having that business talk with Ridgway, which he had graciously promised the latter. Eaton and his chief were busy over some applications for leases when Smythe came into the room with a letter. “Messenger-boy brought it; said it was important,” he explained. Ridgway ripped open the envelope, read through the letter swiftly, and tossed it to Eaton. His eyes had grown hard and narrow. “Write to Mr. Hobart that I am sorry I haven’t time to call on Mr. Harley at the Consolidated offices, as he suggests. Add that I expect to be in my offices all morning, and shall be glad to make an appointment to talk with Mr. Harley here, if he thinks he has any business with me that needs a personal interview.”