"Oh, I know _that_. I don't believe you're _scared_ of work; you're only sort of shy about it. I never saw you really afraid of more'n three things--bein' a spoil-sport, or out of style, or havin' a waiter think you're stingy. No, you ain't _afraid_ of work, but you never been properly introduced, so you're kind of standoffish about it. I've always kind of hoped you'd take a tip from Bob Standish--_there's_ one of your own breed that knows where the durable satisfactions of life are. Just as good family's yours; just as much money; just as fond of games;--and workin' like a prize pup in my office and makin' good. _He_'ll tell you.... But if you go get married, boy, before you show you _could_ take care of yourself, and what money I might leave you--oh, I don't say you got to put over any miracle, but I _do_ say you got to learn the value of money first. You'd do that by earnin' some. If you don't, then you and me'd have a quarrel. Sound logical to you?" Henry was frowning a little, and sitting nearer to the edge of his chair. "Too _darned_ logical," he said. His uncle surveyed him with great indulgence. "What's the idea?" he asked, humourously. "You ain't gone off and got yourself married already, have you?" Henry stood up, and squared his shoulders, and looked straight into his uncle's eyes. His voice was strained, but at the same time it held a faint note of relief, as if he had contained his secret too long for his own nerves. "Yes, Uncle John...." And waited, as before the Court of last appeal. CHAPTER II The older man sat limp in his chair, and stared until the ash of his cigar tumbled, untidily, over his waistcoat. He brushed at it with uncertain, ineffective motions, but his eyes never left his nephew. He put the cigar once more to his lips, shuddered, and flung it away. "Boy--" he said, at length, "Boy--is that true?" Henry cleared his throat. "Yes, Uncle John." "Who is it? Anna Barklay?" "Yes, Uncle John." "_When?_" "Yesterday afternoon." "Does--Judge Barklay know it yet?" "No, not yet. He's out of town." His uncle drew a tremendous breath, and pulled himself upright. "Boy," he said, "why in the hell did you ever go and do a thing like that?... Haven't I been pretty decent to you, the best I knew how?... Why'd you ever go, and--_have_ I been mistaken in you all this while? Why, boy, I thought you and me were _friends_." There was another heavy silence. "I don't know. It just happened. The way things do--sometimes. We've always been crazy about each other."