“That’s what made the boss’s idea reasonable to me,” he explained. “She couldn’t conceive why you should keep silent, and so was ready to pitch into you on the slightest pretense. Women haven’t much use for a man who falls in love and doesn’t say so. But of course I knew that your debt put marriage out of the question.” I merely nodded my head, for even to him I could not speak of my love for you, it was so sacred to me. He drew up a chair to the fire, and continued: “There isn’t another man to whom I’d care to say what I’m going to say to you, but you’ve got a heart and a head both, and won’t misunderstand me.” He finished his glass, and set it on the mantel. “Now I don’t have to tell you that the boss is fond of you, and when I told her that I knew of a reason why you couldn’t marry, she forgave you on the spot. What’s more, she first wished to learn what it was; and failing in that, she then wanted to know if it could be remedied, so that you might have a chance to win the girl.” “She of course knows nothing of my position?” “No,” he said, “but she knows something of your character, and she’s ordered me that, if it’s possible, I’m to help you get the girl you care for.” “But my debt!” I exclaimed. “How much is it now?” he queried. “One hundred and eighteen thousand.” “Well, I’ll lend Agnes’s husband one hundred and eighteen thousand dollars at three per cent, and leave her the note when I die. From what I know of marriage, I venture to assert that if she squeezes him for payment it will be his own fault.” I sat speechless for a moment, too bewildered by the unexpected turn to even think. “I was as surprised as you look,” he went on, “for although I had seen that you and Agnes”— “Indeed, Mr. Blodgett,” I exclaimed hastily, “I am no more to Miss Agnes than a dozen of her friends! I”— “So the boss says,” he interrupted. “But that doesn’t mean that you can’t be. Though to speak the truth, my boy,” he continued, resting his hand on my knee, “this wasn’t my plan. I had hoped that you and Maizie would take a shine to each other, and so kiss the chalk-marks off that old score. But when I spoke of the scheme to the boss, this evening, she told me there had never been a chance of it; that you didn’t like Mai, and that she is practically engaged to Whitely, and is only—Better have some more whiskey, or that cough will shake you to pieces.” I could only shake my head in my misery, but after a moment I was able to say, “Mr. Blodgett, I did not understand—I”—