Kit also decided that for the first year he and Anne would live in a hired house near New York. He congratulated himself that he had arranged to go into business with his college friend before he had known that he should so soon have a wife to support. He wondered what rentals were now. He had an idea that they were high and houses scarce, but he knew that he should find one within his limit, because all these details would arrange themselves. No question of that, when the supreme fact that they loved each other had so arranged itself! Kit came into the house whistling, his face crimson, his hat on the back of his head, his eyes so queer that Helen, meeting him on the piazza, actually thought for a moment that he had been drinking. “Hallo, Nell!” he cried, jovially, confirming her suspicion. “How nice you look! Isn’t it a corking day? Maybe it’s a bit too hot, but I like heat. Are you going out, or coming in? You look mighty nice to-day, Helen!” Helen’s suspicion shifted; this was not wine. And as to the other, the second exciting influence of that trilogy, which not to love Luther is said to have warned, left a man a fool his life-long? Helen could not see how Kit could have fallen under that influence. “Mr. Lanbury is coming, Kit,” she said. “Is he? Who is he?” asked Kit. “Oh, is that the chap you told me about? Coming to get you, Helen? Lucky dog! I hope he’s all right? I don’t suppose I’ve ever had enough sympathy for happy or unhappy lovers. Are you going to make this Lonsberry happy, Nell?” Helen’s eyes narrowed. She looked as though she might slap Kit, but she did not. “Well, at least you’re not a dog in the manger, Kit!” she said, and Kit came to himself enough to realize that Helen was establishing the legend that Kit had wanted her, but could not have her. Well, if she felt better that way! It did not matter. Anne mattered, nothing else, and he was going to have her! “Mr. Lanbury is not Lonsberry. Please get his name straight. He’ll arrive to-night. You’ll see a handsome man, Kit-boy, and a wealthy one, who uses his money in big ways. I wish I could get him to see Mr. Latham. He’s interested in the theatre. He may not have time to go there this visit. I suppose Latham is at home, if he could go?” inquired Helen. “Yes,” said unwary Kit. “He has a famous manager lunching with him to-day. I suppose it has something to do with the play. The fourth act is well on toward completion.” “What a detailed and up-to-the-minute bulletin!” laughed Helen. “Did you see the manager? Was it Belasco?” “I didn’t ask; no, I didn’t see him; I wasn’t there,” said Kit. “I met--I went to the Berkleys’ with young Peter’s book, and An--Miss Dallas was there.”