“Oh, I merely said in substance that I was glad to hear it because you couldn't think now I wanted to marry you for your money. I added that if things came my way we would send him cards later. One doesn't like to slang one's wife's father, so I drew it mild.” “I don't believe a word of it. You wouldn't dare.” That she admired and at the same time distrusted was so apparent that he drew a yellow envelope from his pocket and handed it to her. “This is his latest contribution to the literature of frankness. You see his feelings overflowed so promptly he had to turn loose in good American talk right off the bat. Couldn't wait for the code.” She read aloud. “Your resignation as General Counsel Transcontinental will be accepted immediately. Turn over papers to Walker and go to the devil.” It was signed “Powers.” “That's all, is it? No further exchange of compliments,” she wanted to know. “That's all, except that he is reading my resignation by this time. I sent it two hours ago. In it I tried to convey to him my sense of regret at being obliged to sever business relations owing to the fact that I was about to contract family ties with him. I hoped that he would command me in any way he saw fit and was sorry we couldn't come to an agreement in the present instance.” “I don't believe you're a bit sorry. Don't you realize what an expensive luxury you're getting in me and how serious a thing it is to cast off heaven knows how many millions?” “Oh, I realize it!” “But you expect him to come round when he has had time to think it over?” “It's hard for me to conceive of anybody not wanting me for a son-in-law,” he admitted cheerfully. Valencia nodded. “He'll like you all the better for standing up to him. He's fond of Alice because she's impudent to him.” “I didn't mean to be impudent, but I couldn't lie down and let him prove me what he called me.” “If you're that kind of a man I'm almost glad you're going to make me marry you,” she confided. He leaned over her chair, his eyes shining. “I'll make you more than almost glad, Valencia. You're going to learn what it is to--oh, damn it!” He was impersonally admiring her Whistler when the maid brushed aside the portieres. She had come to bring Mrs. Van Tyle a telegram. “No answer, Pratt.” After the maid had retired her mistress called James to her side. Over her shoulder he read it. “Glad he is an American and not living on his father. Didn't think you had so much sense. Tell that young man I want to see him in New York immediately.” The message was signed with the name of her father. “What do you suppose he wants with you in New York?” James was radiant. He kissed the perfect lips turned toward him before he answered. “Oh, to make me president of the Transcontinental maybe. How should I know? It's an olive branch. Isn't that enough?” “When shall you go?” He looked at his watch. “The limited leaves at nine-thirty. That gives me nearly an hour.” “You're not going to-night?”