“What is it, Barbara?” he asked, when Jimmy had gone exultantly forth to boast to Peg of his initial victory in the difficult warfare of education. “I have just been reading a letter—from David,” she said, without attempt at postponement or evasion. “He is married.” “Well?” said Jarvis gravely. “I was glad to know that,” she went on. “I have been afraid—for that poor girl.” She was silent for a long minute, while the logs purred comfortably together in the fireplace. Then she met his questioning eyes, her own filled with a deep, mysterious light. “He told me what I had sometimes—thought might be true,” she hesitated; “that you—were the unknown person, who—— that I really—belong to you.” Then the significance of her words flashed over her, and her face glowed with lovely shamed color. “I am quite rich now,” she went on hurriedly, “and you must let me give you—pay you——” “I will, Barbara,” he said, with a quiet smile. “If you will only give me—what you have acknowledged really belongs to me. Will you, Barbara?” She turned to him, all her woman’s soul in her sweet eyes. “To the highest bidder,” she murmured, and laid her hand in his. THE END End of Project Gutenberg's To the Highest Bidder, by Florence Morse Kingsley