For a long time after he heard the voices cease Hayward Graham waited in Mr. Phillips’ outer office to learn his fate. He had caught some of the excited discussion—enough to be convinced of his father-in-law’s opposition; but he could not be sure of the details. A servant had come in to say that Mrs. Phillips could not come to the office, and had knocked softly on the inner door several times while the discussion was at its warmest. Failing to get an answer, he had left his message with Hayward and retired. When the voices were quiet and the inner room became silent Hayward was on the _qui vive_ for developments; and stood facing the door in a fever of expectation.... His fever, however, had time to burn itself out.... In that long silence President Phillips fought his greatest battle.... The issue was predestined, of course. In his heart there was no passion at all comparable to his love for Helen, and that love won over all obstacles.... He saw clearly in what measure he was responsible for her undoing; and he came squarely to the mark with a courage that would face _all_ odds for his little girl—that would face a frowning world, a laughing, a mocking world—that would face his own soul even to the death—that her gentle heart might not be troubled.... He held her while her sobs shook themselves out, and then on and on he held her, close and warm, as if he would never again let her out of his sheltering arms,—while he gazed over her bowed head into the dying fire, and fixed and fortified his resolution. At last Graham summoned courage to knock upon the door. President Phillips started as from a reverie. "Come in," he said, rising unsteadily and placing Helen gently on her feet, his arm still about her. "Why, certainly, Hayward, come in,"—and then he added after a short pause: "Helen has told me all about it, and, while I can’t approve of the clandestine marriage, I shall do what I can to make my little girl happy—yes, I’ll do what I can to make her happy.... And since this has been such an—unusual—evening I’ll ask you to go now and come back to-morrow morning." Hayward delivered the belated message from Mrs. Phillips, stood for a moment uncertain whether Helen would speak to him, and then turned to go. "And do not wear your livery in the morning, Hayward," said Mr. Phillips. "Very well, sir," said Hayward, as he withdrew. *CHAPTER XXXIII* When President Phillips came out of his office after dismissing Hayward, he found a score of reporters and newspaper correspondents fighting for places at the great front door. They were awaiting with what patience they could Mr. Phillips’ pleasure in giving to the public an authoritative statement of his daughter’s marriage.