“That’s the worst of it. When you star as Waring Ridgway you are most dangerous. What I want is total abstinence.” “You’d rather I didn’t see her at all?” Virginia dimpled, a gleam of reminiscent laughter in her eyes. “When I was in Denver last month a Mrs. Smythe—it was Smith before her husband struck it rich last year—sent out cards for a bridge afternoon. A Mrs. Mahoney had just come to the metropolis from the wilds of Cripple Creek. Her husband had struck a gold-mine, too, and Mr. Smythe was under obligations to him. Anyhow, she was a stranger, and Mrs. Smythe took her in. It was Mrs. Mahoney’s introduction to bridge, and she did not know she was playing for keeps. When the afternoon was over, Mrs. Smythe hovered about her with the sweetest sympathy. ‘So sorry you had such a horrid run of cards, dear. Better luck next time.’ It took Mrs. Mahoney some time to understand that her social afternoon had cost one hundred and twenty dollars, but next day her husband sent a check for one hundred and twenty-two dollars to Mrs. Smythe. The extra two dollars were for the refreshments, he naively explained, adding that since his wife was so poor a gambler as hardly to be able to keep professionals interested, he would not feel offended if Mrs. Smythe omitted her in future from her social functions.” Ridgway took it with a smile. “Simon Harley brought his one hundred and twenty-two dollars in person.” “He didn’t! When?” “This morning. He proposed benevolent assimilation as a solution of our troubles.” “Just how?” “He offered to consolidate all the copper interests of the country and put me at the head of the resulting combine.” “If you wouldn’t play bridge with Mrs. Harley?” “Exactly.” “And you?” “Declined to pledge myself.” She clapped her hands softly. “Well done, Waring Ridgway! There are times when you are magnificent, when I could put you on a pedestal, you great big, unafraid man. But you mustn’t play with her, just the same.” “Why mustn’t I?” “For her sake.” He frowned past her into space, his tight-shut jaw standing out saliently. “You’re right, Virginia. I’ve been thinking so myself. I’ll keep off the grass,” he said, at last. “You’re a good fellow,” slipped out impulsively. “Well, I know where there’s another,” he said. “I ought to think myself a lucky dog.” Virginia lifted quizzical eyebrows. “Ought to! That tastes of duty. Don’t let it come to that. We’ll take it off if you like.” She touched the solitaire he had given her. “Ah, but I don’t like”—he smiled. CHAPTER XII. ALINE MAKES A DISCOVERY Aline pulled her horse to a walk. “You know Mr. Ridgway pretty well, don’t you?” Miss Balfour gently flicked her divided skirt with a riding-whip, considering whether she might be said to know him well. “Yes, I think I do,” she ventured. “Mrs. Mott says you and he are great friends, that you seem very fond of each other.”