That day he ate no lunch, but he had discovered a place where an abundance might be had for twenty-five cents if one knew how to order and ordered judiciously. And so to this place he repaired for his dinner. Perched upon a high stool, he filled at least a corner of the aching void within. Sitting in his room that night he took account of his assets and his liabilities. His room rent was paid until Saturday and this was Thursday, and in his pocket were one dollar and sixty cents. Opening his trunk, he drew forth a sheet of paper and an envelope, and, clearing the top of the rickety little table which stood at the head of his bed, he sat down on the soiled counterpane and wrote a letter. DEAR DAD: I guess I'm through, I have tried and failed. It is hard to admit it, but I guess I'll have to. If you will send me the price I'll come home. With love, Jim Slowly he folded the letter and inserted it in the envelope, his face mirroring an utter dejection such as Jimmy Torrance had never before experienced in his life. "Failure," he muttered, "unutterable failure." Taking his hat, he walked down the creaking stairway, with its threadbare carpet, and out onto the street to post his letter. CHAPTER V. JIMMY LANDS ONE. Miss Elizabeth Compton sat in the dimly lighted library upon a deep-cushioned, tapestried sofa. She was not alone, yet although there were many comfortable chairs in the large room, and the sofa was an exceptionally long one, she and her companion occupied but little more space than would have comfortably accommodated a single individual. "Stop it, Harold," she admonished. "I utterly loathe being mauled." "But I can't help it, dear. It seems so absolutely wonderful! I can't believe it--that you are really mine." "But I'm not--yet!" exclaimed the girl. "There are a lot of formalities and bridesmaids and ministers and things that have got to be taken into consideration before I am yours. And anyway there is no necessity for mussing me up so. You might as well know now as later that I utterly loathe this cave-man stuff. And really, Harold, there is nothing about your appearance that suggests a cave-man, which is probably one reason that I like you." "Like me?" exclaimed the young man. "I thought you loved me." "I have to like you in order to love you, don't I?" she parried. "And one certainly has to like the man she is going to marry." "Well," grumbled Mr. Bince, "you might be more enthusiastic about it." "I prefer," explained the girl, "to be loved decorously. I do not care to be pawed or clawed or crumpled. After we have been married for fifteen or twenty years and are really well acquainted--" "Possibly you will permit me to kiss you," Bince finished for her.