"Jerry Swaim, you are building up a wild, adventurous dream. You are Lesa Swaim over and over. You want a lark, that's what you want. And it's you who have put Eugene up to his notions of a career and all that. Listen to me. Nothing talks in this world like money. That you have to have for your way of living, and that he's got to have if he wants to be what he should be. Well, go on out to Kansas. You know more of that prosperous property out there than I do. I'll let you find it out to the last limit. But when you come back you must promise me never to take another such notion. I won't stand this foolishness forever. I'll give you plenty of money to get there. You can write me when you need funds to come back. It won't take long to get that letter here." "And if I shouldn't come?" Jerry asked, calmly. "Look what you are giving up. All this beautiful home, to say nothing of the town house--and Eugene--and other property." "No, no; you don't count him as your property, do you?" Jerry cried, turning to the young artist, whose face was very pale. "Jerry, must you make this sacrifice?" he asked, in a voice of tenderness. "It isn't a sacrifice; it's just what I want to do," Jerry declared, lightly. Jerusha Darby's face darkened. The effect of a long and absolute exercise of will, coupled with ample means, can make the same kind of a tyrant out of a Kaiser and a rich aunt. The determination to have her own way in this matter, as she had had in all other matters, became at once an unbreakable purpose in her. She wanted to keep fast hold of these young people for her own sake, not for theirs. For a little while she sat measuring the two with her narrow, searching eyes. "I can manage him best," she concluded to herself. At last she asked, plaintively, "With all you have here, Jerry, why do you go hunting opportunities in Kansas?" "Because I want to," Jerry replied, and her aunt knew that, so far as Jerry was concerned, everything was settled. "Then we'll drop the matter here. I can wait for you to come to your senses. Eugene, if you can give her up, when you've always been chums, I certainly can." With these words Mrs. Darby rose and passed out, leaving the two alone under the rose-colored lights of the richly furnished parlor. It was not like Jerusha Darby to make such a concession, and Jerry Swaim knew it, but Eugene Wellington, who was of alien blood, did not know it.