And so they went on, these two young things, opening up their hearts to each other as they walked home and flying off at all manner of feminine tangents. Kenyon, perfectly satisfied with his talk to Belle, whom he had secured without binding himself to anything definite, was wearing white spats, and so he picked his way across the wet streets like a cat on hot bricks. For several blocks he permitted Peter to talk about Betty. His affectation of interest and sympathy was not so well done as usual. He had determined, with a sort of professional jealousy, not to allow Ita Strabosck to trade on Graham's credulity any longer. All his thoughts were concentrated on his plan to smash up that burlesque arrangement, as he inwardly called it. If anyone were to make use of Graham he intended to be that one. The girl, at present a humble member of the great army of parasites in which he held a commission, must be cleared out. She was inconveniently in the way. When Peter was obliged to stop for breath, Kenyon jumped in. "Look here!" he said. "You're coming with me to the shrine of the pernicious Papowsky to-night." "You mean on Graham's business?" asked Peter. "Is it absolutely necessary to go to that place?" "Absolutely. You'll see why, if everything works as I think it will, when we get there." "Right. And how about Graham?" "You and Graham are going to have dinner with me at Sherry's. I shall have to see that he has half a bottle too much champagne. That'll make him careless and put a bit of devil into him, and when I suggest that he shall take us to Papowsky's, he will jump at the notion, He's awful keen to show us what a blood he is. Once he gets us inside the rest will follow." "I see. By Jove, I shall be thundering glad when Graham's plucked out of this wretched mess. The only thing is I'm booked to dine with Mr. Townsend at his club to-night." "It can't be done," said Kenyon. "Directly you get home you must telephone. Say that an urgent matter has just cropped up and beg to be excused. Call it business--call it anything you like--but get out of it." "All right!" said Peter. "I'm heart and soul with you, old boy. I'm very grateful for all the trouble you're taking. You always were a good chap." "My dear Peter, add to my possession of the ordinary number of senses one that is almost as rare as the Dodo,--the sense of gratitude. Hello! Here's some of the family in the car!" They had halted on the steps of the Doctor's house as Mrs. Guthrie and Ethel were driven up. Kenyon sprang forward, opened the door and handed the ladies out with an air that Raleigh himself would have found commendable. "Blood tells," said Belle, who watched from the top step, with a proud smile. "Yes," said Betty, "but I prefer muscle. Look!" The pavement was uneven in front of the house and the rain had made a little pool. So Peter picked his mother up, as though she were as light as a bunch of feathers, and carried her into the house.