After all her father would be pleased to have her marry an American business man. The Powers' millions could easily buy for her a fine old dukedom if she wanted one. At present there was more than one available title-holder on her horizon. But Valencia did not care to take up the responsibilities that go with such a position. She was too indolent to adapt her life to the standards of others--and perhaps too proud. Moreover, it happened that she had had enough of the club man type in the late lamented Van Tyle. This man was a worker. He would not annoy her or interfere with her careless pleasures. Again she asked herself, Why not? “I suppose you really do like me.” Her face was tilted in gay little appeal. “I'm not going to tell you how much. It wouldn't be good for discipline in the house.” Her soft little laugh bubbled over. “We seem to have quite settled it. And I hadn't the slightest notion of agreeing to anything so ridiculous when I ventured that indiscreet remark about an abduction.” She looked up at him with smiling insolence. “You're only an adventurer, you know. I daresay you haven't even paid for the car in which you were going to kidnap me.” “No,” he admitted cheerfully. “I wonder what Dad will think of it.” “He'll thank Heaven you didn't present him with a French or Italian count to support.” “I believe he will. His objection to Gus was that he looked like a foreigner and never had done a day's work in his life. Poor Gus! He didn't measure up to Dad's idea of a man. Now I suppose you could earn a living for us.” “I'm not expecting you to take in sewing.” “Are you going to do the independent if Dad cuts up rough?” she asked saucily. “Independent is the word.” He smiled with a sudden appreciation of the situation. “And I take it he means to cut up rough. I wired him to-day I was going to ask you to marry me.” “You didn't.” “Yes.” “But wasn't that a little premature? Perhaps it wouldn't have been necessary. Or did you take me for granted?” “There was always the car for a kidnapping in case of necessity,” he joked. “Why did you do it?” “I wanted to be above board about it even if I am an adventurer.” “What did he say? How could you put it in a telegram?” “Red consoles marooned sweet post delayed.” “Dear me! What gibberish is that?” “It's from our private code. It means, 'Going to marry your daughter if she is willing. With your consent, I hope.'” “And he answered? I'll take the English version, please.” “'Consent refused. No fortune hunters need apply.' That is not a direct quotation, but it conveys his meaning accurately enough.” “So I'm to be cut off with a shilling.” Her eyes bubbled with delight. “I reckon so. Of course I had to come back at him.” “How, may I ask?” She was vastly amused at this novel correspondence.