"I?" Roberts smiled, his slow smile. "I'm her lawyer and--abstract. Besides, her father is wealthy. There'd be a fat fee if she returned to him." "You forget that I apologized." "That's right. I'm always forgetting." Apparently he did not remember even yet. "You've neglected to answer my question," impatiently. "I repeat: what are you going to do about it?" "I asked your solution first. Do you give it up?" "Yes," with a little gesture; "I give it up." Darley Roberts smiled; a contagious, convincing smile. "Very well, I'll try then," he said. "I shan't promise anything. I'll simply try." "Try how?" Again Roberts smiled; but through whimsically narrowed lids now. "I'm not sure of the details yet myself. I merely have an idea. There's an old adage concerning Mahomet and the mountain, you know." "And in this case Margery represents the mountain?" "Yes." Unconsciously the girl's color heightened. "You really fancy," swiftly, "that Harry can be stirred up enough, can be made practical enough--you forget you said a moment ago that he would never advance financially." "No. The adage will have to be adjusted a bit to meet the requirements. He'll have to be carried there." Elice Gleason drew a quick little breath of understanding and something more. "If you'll do this for one almost a stranger, one wonders what you would do for a friend," she said; "one--wonders." For an instant the man said nothing; abruptly, dismissing the subject, he arose. "There's just one other thing that I meant to tell you," he said; "something that perhaps you know already. I'm pretty busy and I don't always find time to read the local news. So it's not unusual that I didn't know before. Steve Armstrong is back." Quietly the girl arose also, stood so very still. "Yes," she said. "He's been back a week. He's working in the big drug-store on the corner, Shaw's place, in the laboratory." "That's all, then. I thought perhaps you didn't know." For an instant the girl was silent; she looked her companion full in the face. "He called the afternoon he came. He was almost--pitiable. Father came home finally." "Elice!" Their eyes held. Not three feet separate they stood there; but neither stirred. "Mr. Roberts." In silence the man put on top-coat and gloves; not hastily, nor yet lingeringly. Equally naturally he picked up his hat. "December the sixth," he said. "One whole year. To-morrow will be the seventh--and business--battle, again." For the first time he dallied, the big soft felt hat turning absently in his hand. "Somehow I'd hoped a lot for the sixth, planned a lot--and now it's past." His eyes shifted, fastened elsewhere compellingly. "It is all past, all over, gone into history, isn't it, Elice?" "Yes, it's past, Mr. Roberts." "Not even 'past, Darley,' not even that--yet?" The brown eyes dropped. They had fought their fight and won--for December the sixth. "No. Not even that--yet," she said. CHAPTER II ACQUAINTANCE