“We'll begin with that,” he cried enthusiastically, “but we won't stay there long. I've got big plans. I'm going to make a million. The white house down by the sea for me, a yacht out in the front yard and a half-dozen thundering autos in the garage. If this deal I'm on now goes through, I'll make my pile in a year----” They rose as the shadows lengthened. “I must go home and feed my pets,” she sighed. “All right,” he responded heartily. “I'll get the car and be there in a jiffy. We'll take a spin out to a road-house for dinner.” She lifted her eyes tenderly. “You can come right up to my room--now that we're engaged.” He swept her into his arms again, and held her in unresisting happiness. It was dark when he swung the gray car against the curb and sprang out. He didn't blow his horn for her to come down. The privilege she had granted was too sweet and wonderful. He wouldn't miss it for the world. The stairs were dark. Ella was late this afternoon getting back to her work. His light footstep scarcely made a sound. He found each step with quick, instinctive touch. The building seemed deserted. The tenants were all on trips to the country and the seashore. The day was one of rare beauty and warmth. Someone was fumbling in the dark on the third floor back. He made his way quickly to her room, and softly knocked, waited a moment and knocked again. There was no response. He couldn't be mistaken. He had seen her lean out of that window every day the past week. Perhaps she was busy in the kitchenette and the noise from the street made it impossible to hear. He placed his hand on the doorknob. From the darkness of the hall, in a quick, tiger leap, Ella threw herself on him and grappled for his throat. “What are you doing at that door, you dirty thief?” she growled. “Here! Here! What'ell--what's the matter with you?” he gasped, gripping her hands and tearing them from his neck. “I'm no thief!” “You are! You are, too!” she shrieked. “I heard you sneak in the door downstairs--heard you slippin' like a cat upstairs! Get out of here before I call a cop!” She was savagely pushing him back to the landing of the stairs. With a sudden lurch, Jim freed himself and gripped her hands. “Cut it! Cut it! Or I'll knock your block off! I've come to take my girl to ride----” He drew a match and quickly lighted the gas as Mary's footstep echoed on the stairs below. “Well, she's coming now--we'll see,” was the sullen answer. Ella surveyed him from head to foot, her one eye gleaming in angry suspicion. Mary sprang up the last step and saw the two confronting each other. She had heard the angry voices from below. “Why, Ella, what's the matter?” she gasped. “He was trying to break into your room----” Jim threw up his hands in a gesture of rage, and Mary broke into a laugh. “Why, nonsense, Ella, I asked him to come! This is Mr. Anthony,”--her voice dropped,--“my fiance.” Ella's figure relaxed with a look of surprise.