It was a glorious early summer day, with just a line of haze along the distant hills; the air was soft with the breath of the open country; the dew was still heavy on grass and shrub. As he swung along, whistling merrily as a school boy on his way to a vacation-day frolic, he did not in the remotest degree suggest the cold, hard man of finance, compared to whom an arctic night is as a torrid afternoon. It was the one occasion on which he permitted himself to relax and be entirely natural. Presently, away off in front on the macadam road, he noticed a pedestrian--who, as he slowly decreased the distance, was resolved into a woman--and, as he gradually overtook her, into a tall, willowy figure, in a short walking skirt, high tan shoes lacing well up the leg, and a small Continental hat, set at a rakish angle. "Who is it?" he kept asking himself--and then there came a sharp turn in the road and he recognized her. It was Stephanie Lorraine. A momentary smile of satisfaction crossed his lips, and he extended his stride a trifle. Here was an opportunity, better than any of Woodside's devising, for him to make her acquaintance--quite by accident and altogether informally. And for her to snub him, if she were so minded, with no one but themselves to witness it nor to remember. He came up with her a little farther on. As she glanced casually at him he raised his hat and said, bowing and pausing as he did so: "Good morning, Mrs. Lorraine!" Stephanie knew who had been behind--she had heard his quick, sharp step a long way back and had contrived, as only a woman can, to see who it was without betraying that she had seen. And she had decided what she would do, if he overtook her,--and she was intending that he should overtake her--and speak; also what she would do if, by any chance, he did not speak. "Good morning, sir," she replied. It was politely indifferent, yet at the same time courteous. It neither repelled, repressed nor invited. "It is a charming morning," said he, appraising the situation as he saw it. It was just as he had anticipated. She had no thought of snubbing _him_--she was very well content to take him as one of the circle to which she belonged, and to treat him accordingly. "Perfectly lovely!" she answered. He shortened his steps, so that he remained a trifle in advance and appeared to be slowly passing her. "It's the cream of the day, to me," he said--"particularly at this season of the year. I don't know that I should call it so _all_ the year." "No!" she said. "Nor I--here in the North." She saw what was coming--and it came. "If I present myself to you properly, may I walk along?" he smiled--"we're going the same road, it seems." "Are you willing to be sponsor for yourself?" she smiled back. "Only in exceptional instances," he bowed and removed his hat. "Permit me to present Charles Porshinger to Mrs. Lorraine!" She held out her hand. "I'm glad to meet Mr. Porshinger," she said.