"Only tentatively," was the complacent reply. "I met a girl in New York last winter, and it seems to me she couldn't be improved upon if she had been made to order; but I want to look the ground over a bit, and that is where you come in. Her name is Marian Thatcher, and--" "Thatcher--Marian Thatcher!" Huntington interrupted unexpectedly. "From New York? Why--no, that would be ridiculous! Is she a widow?" Cosden chuckled. "Not yet, and if she marries me it will be a long time before she gets a chance to wear black. What put that idea in your head?" "Nothing," Huntington hastened to say. "I knew a girl years ago named Marian who married a man named Thatcher, and they lived in New York." "She is about twenty years old--" "Not the same," Huntington remarked. Then after a moment's silence he laughed. "What tricks Time plays us! I knew the girl I speak of when I was in college, and I haven't seen her since her marriage. Go on with your proposition." "Well, she and her parents went down to Bermuda last week, and it occurred to me that if you and I just happen down there next week it would exactly fit into my plans. More than that, I have business reasons for wanting to get closer to Thatcher himself. We've been against each other on several deals, and this might mean a combination. What do you say? Will you go?" "Next week?" Huntington asked. "I couldn't pick up stakes in a minute like that." "Of course you can," Cosden persisted. "There's nothing in the world to prevent your leaving to-night if you choose." "There's Bill, you know." "Well, what about Bill? Is he in any new scrape now?" "No," Huntington admitted; "but he's sure to get into some trouble before I return." "Why can't his father straighten him out?" Huntington laughed consciously. "No father ever understands his son as well as an uncle." "No father ever spoiled a son the way you spoil Bill--" Huntington held up a restraining hand. "It is only the boy's animal spirits bubbling over," he interrupted, "and the fact that he can't grow up. You and I were in college once ourselves." Huntington was never successful in holding out against Cosden's persistency, and in the present case elements existed which argued with almost equal force. He was curious to see how far his friend was in earnest, and was this combination of names a pure coincidence? He wondered. The car came to a stop before Huntington's house. "Well," he yielded at length, as he stepped out, "I presume it might be arranged.--Let Mason take you home. You've given me a lot to think over, Connie--" "This wouldn't break up our intimacy, you understand," Cosden asserted confidently. "No woman in the world shall ever do that; and it will be a good thing for you, too, to have a woman's influence come into your life."