"You'd not marry Dick--Poof! Wouldn't you be a pretty idiot? If you read as many novels as I do you'd know that sentimental, puppy love is a delusion and a snare. Let it alone. You and Dick Mostyn are doing the only rational thing. You will be an ideal couple. Gosh, I wish I had some of the money you will have!" CHAPTER XVII One morning a few days later Mostyn entered the bank and went directly to his office. He had been seated at his desk only a moment when Wright, the cashier, came in smiling suavely. There was a conscious flush on his face which extended into his bald pate, and his eyes were gleaming. "I want to congratulate you," he said. "We've all been reading the account in the paper this morning. Of course, we've suspected it for some time, but didn't want to talk about it till it was announced." "I haven't seen the article," Mostyn answered, in a tone of curbed irritation. "It was written by some woman society reporter. Miss Langley told me to look out for it. I think she furnished the information." "Very likely," Wright answered. "Women like nothing better than a wedding in high life." "Has Saunders come down yet?" the banker inquired. "Yes, he is at his desk. He just got back from his farm this morning." "Please tell him"--Mostyn deliberated--"tell him when he is fully at liberty that I'd like to see him." A moment later Saunders opened the door and came in. A grave look was on his face, and he failed to respond to Mostyn's "Good morning." He paused, and stood leaning on the top of the desk, his glance averted. "Wright says you wish to see me," he began. "Yes, sit down; pull that chair up." Saunders complied, his eyes on the floor. "I suppose you've seen the morning paper?" Mostyn asked. "You mean the--announcement of your--" "Yes, of course." "I saw the head-lines. I didn't read it through." Silence crept between the two men. Mostyn touched a paper-weight with his slender, bloodless fingers, drew it toward him aimlessly, and then pushed it back. "There is a matter," he began, awkwardly, "which I want to speak to you about. It is due you to know why I drew out that ten thousand dollars. It went to Marie Winship. If you are not satisfied with the collateral I can put up something else." "It is all right." Saunders dropped the words frigidly. "I knew it was for her. The truth is, I supposed that little less would quiet her." "You, no doubt, consider me the champion idiot of the world." Mostyn essayed a smile, but it was a lifeless thing at best, and left his face more grimly masked than before. "However, it is all over now. She is satisfied, and agrees to quit hounding me from now on." Saunders snapped his fingers impulsively, tossed his head, started to speak, but remained silent. "Why did you--do that?" Mostyn demanded, yielding to irritation against his will.