Gretry turned a pale face upon his principal. "I've just received," he said, "the answers to our cables to Liverpool and Paris. I offered wheat at both places, as you know, cheaper than we've ever offered it there before." "Yes--well?" "Well," answered Gretry, looking gravely into Jadwin's eyes, "well--they won't take it." . . . . . . . . . . . . . . On the morning of her birthday--the thirteenth of the month--when Laura descended to the breakfast room, she found Page already there. Though it was barely half-past seven, her sister was dressed for the street. She wore a smart red hat, and as she stood by the French windows, looking out, she drew her gloves back and forth between her fingers, with a nervous, impatient gesture. "Why," said Laura, as she sat down at her place, "why, Pagie, what is in the wind to-day?" "Landry is coming," Page explained, facing about and glancing at the watch pinned to her waist. "He is going to take me down to see the Board of Trade--from the visitor's gallery, you know. He said this would probably be a great day. Did Mr. Jadwin come home last night?" Laura shook her head, without speech. She did not choose to put into words the fact that for three days--with the exception of an hour or two, on the evening after that horrible day of her visit to the Cresslers' house--she had seen nothing of her husband. "Landry says," continued Page, "that it is awful--down there, these days. He says that it is the greatest fight in the history of La Salle Street. Has Mr. Jadwin, said anything to you? Is he going to win?" "I don't know," answered Laura, in a low voice; "I don't know anything about it, Page." She was wondering if even Page had forgotten. When she had come into the room, her first glance had been towards her place at table. But there was nothing there, not even so much as an envelope; and no one had so much as wished her joy of the little anniversary. She had thought Page might have remembered, but her sister's next words showed that she had more on her mind than birthdays. "Laura," she began, sitting down opposite to her, and unfolding her napkin, with laborious precision. "Laura--Landry and I--Well ... we're going to be married in the fall." "Why, Pagie," cried Laura, "I'm just as glad as I can be for you. He's a fine, clean fellow, and I know he will make you a good husband." Page drew a deep breath. "Well," she said, "I'm glad you think so, too. Before you and Mr. Jadwin were married, I wasn't sure about having him care for me, because at that time--well--" Page looked up with a queer little smile, "I guess you could have had him--if you had wanted to." "Oh, that," cried Laura. "Why, Landry never really cared for me. It was all the silliest kind of flirtation. The moment he knew you better, I stood no chance at all."