He paused and looked at her anxiously; the effect of his words alarmed him a little. “I know I ought not to be talking to you about it now, but--” “It isn’t that,” she interrupted quickly. “Please don’t think it’s that. It’s something I’ve got to tell you that frightens me.” His face told her that her words had puzzled him, but he only waited for her to go on. For a long time she did not speak. Courageous as she was, she could hardly force the words to her lips, for all her happiness hung on the way he should receive them. “This is it,” she said monotonously: “I came here that night to tell John that there was going to be a run on his bank. So you see it was I who beat you. I did it because--” “So that is what worried you!” he exclaimed, catching both her hands in his. “Why, that didn’t beat me. I knew you’d told him; he said so. I’ve been proud of you ever since for that. It didn’t occur to me to do it till later; but when it did, I came around and warned him myself. Then he said you’d already told him.” The tears brimmed from her eyes and moistened her hot cheeks. “Don’t tell me any more. It doesn’t matter. I’m happier than I thought I ever could be again.” “So you were frightened because--” “Don’t,” she pleaded; “let’s not talk about it at all. Let’s agree never to speak at all about these days. It’s all over, and this was the last.” “Yes,” he said slowly; “we agreed that this was to be the last.” She gazed into his face, eagerly at first, but soon the brightness died out of her eyes; then she looked away, out through the dainty white curtain that hung before the window, at a patch of blue sky. “I wasn’t thinking of that,” she said, with a smile on her lips. “Of course you can’t stop after a defeat. I’d forgotten that it was a defeat. But you want to win again.” “That makes me feel better. I hoped you’d feel that way about it. I know I can win, and I’d like to. And it’ll only be one more.” “Only one more,” she echoed softly. Then she roused herself and said energetically: “I wish you’d get the carriage and take me home. I’m strong enough to go, really, and I want to get back there.” * * * * * Jack Dorlin has always accounted it a miracle of self-control that he stayed at the bank that day until he had finished up his day’s work. But in spite of Dick’s face, with its lurking dimple, that kept coming between him and his remittance ledgers, and her voice that was always in his ears, he did it. It will go without saying that when the last of the work was done, a little before five in the afternoon, that he made record-breaking speed straight to John Bagsbury’s house. When he came near it, he was struck with a sudden incredulity concerning the astounding events of that morning. It was absurd to think that they had really happened. With true lover’s insanity he took counsel with himself that he would assume nothing at all unless Dick’s behavior should give him the warrant.