It was no use going up against old Humphrey. He had tried that. He went as far as the fire-plug, close to the corner, and sank down upon it. Everybody was against him. He would sit here awhile and think it over. Perhaps he could figure out some way of breaking through the conspiracy. Then Mr. Martin Jaffry drove up to the curb and he had to move his legs. Mr. Jaffry said, "Hello, Pudge," too. It was all deeply annoying. Meantime, during the past half-hour, the law offices of Remington and Evans were not lacking in the sense of life and activity. Things began moving when Penny Evans (christened Penfield) came back from lunch. He wore an air--Betty Sheridan noted, from her typewriter desk within the rail--of determination. His nod toward herself was distinctly brusque; a new quality which gave her a moment's thought. And then when he had hung up his hat and was walking past her to his own private office, he indulged in a faint, fleeting grin. Betty considered him. She had known Penny Evans as long as she could remember knowing anybody; and she had never seen him look quite as he looked this afternoon. The buzzer sounded. It was absurd, of course; nobody else in the office. He could have spoken--you could hear almost every sound over the seven-foot partitions. She rose, waited an instant to insure perfect composure, smoothed down her trim shirtwaist, pushed back a straying wisp of her naturally wavy hair, picked up her notebook and three sharp pencils, and went quietly into his office. He sat there at his flat desk--his blond brows knit, his mouth firm, a light of eager good humor in his blue eyes. "Take this," he said... Betty seated herself opposite him, and was instantly ready for work. "... Memorandum. From rentals--the old Evans property on Ash Street, the two houses on Wilson Avenue South, and the factory lease in the South Extension, a total of slightly over $3600. "New paragraph. From investments in bonds, railway and municipal, an average the last four years of $2800. "New paragraph. From law practice, last year, over $4500. Will be considerably more this year. Total----" "New paragraph?" "No. Continue. Total, $10,900. This year will be close to $12,000. Don't you think that's a reasonably good showing for an unencumbered man of twenty-seven?" "Dictation--that last?" "No, personal query, Penny to Betty." "Yes, then, it is very good. You want this in memorandum form. Any carbons?" "One carbon--in the form of a diamond--gift from Penny to Betty." Miss Sheridan settled back in her chair, tapped her pretty mouth with her pencil, and surveyed the blond young man. Her eyes were blue--frank, capable eyes. "Penny, I like my work here----" "I should hope so----" "And I don't want to give it up." "Then don't." "I shall have to, Penny, if you don't stop breaking your word. It was a definite agreement, you know. You were not to propose to me, on any working day, before seven P.M. This is a proposal of course----"