He shrank from making the revelation which should first suggest to Linda that it was really Talbot's Angles to which the papers referred. He could see her startled look, her fluttering hands, the color coming and going in her cheeks. He bit his lip fiercely and tramped up and down his small office savagely. Why should this ordeal be his to meet? He would turn it over to some other, Miss Ri, perhaps. "I can't do it," he cried aloud. "I'll fling the whole dog-goned pack of papers into the river first." Her dearest wish! He stopped short. Could he supply it? Was he able to buy Talbot's Angles supposing it were for sale? What nonsense. He laughed mirthlessly. "I am a pretty sort of duffer," he exclaimed. "What am I thinking of?" He jammed his hat upon his head, slammed the door behind him and strode down the street, passing Uncle Moke without a word and with such a set look on his face as caused the old man to mumble, "Mr. Berk sholy is riled. Look lak he gwine 'res' some o' dese bank robbers, or sumpin." Berkley's step never faltered as he marched on with head up, as one going to battle. His savage peal of the door-bell brought Miss Ri in haste. Her face cleared when she saw who it was. "Well, Berk," she exclaimed, "what a mighty pull you did give, to be sure. Come in, come in and help us celebrate. We've a great piece of news for you." He entered the room, where Linda sat, her face all alight, and some distance away, Mr. Jeffreys, with a queer strained expression in his eyes, but a forced smile upon his lips. On the table stood a tray with glasses filled with some of Miss Ri's famous homemade wine. "Here comes another to help us celebrate," cried Miss Ri. "Get another glass, Verlinda." She filled it, when brought, from the heavy old decanter and, holding her own glass aloft, she exclaimed: "Here's to the next owner of Talbot's Angles!" Berkley's hand shook so that his glass overflowed and a few drops were spilled. His eyes met those of the other man. Neither spoke, nor did either touch the wine. "You don't understand my toast," cried Miss Ri, looking from one to the other. "Grace Talbot is going to marry Major Forbes, and Linda will have her heart's desire." "Of course, I'll drink to Linda, if that is what you mean," said Berkley, recovering himself and tossing off the contents of the glass, while Mr. Jeffreys echoed: "Of course, we'll drink to Miss Linda." Berkley sat down, his head in a whirl. This put an entirely different face on the matter. He would have to think it over. This was no time to force conclusions. He scarcely heard Linda's eager account of the letter she had that day received from her sister-in-law. "It was so like Grace," she told him. "Major Forbes was such an old friend--" "Quite old," put in Miss Ri. "He must be sixty, if he's a day."