“You know, I suppose, for it’s become town-talk long ago, that somebody bid her in—a thundering shame I call it—and then failed to show up. She considers herself bound, since she used the money—or part of it. I’d like mighty well to get hold of the person, male or female, who’s skulking behind the contract—as she persists in regarding it.” “Why? What’s wrong with the transaction?” Jarvis’s tone asked for information merely, but David flashed a suspicious look at him. “Do you know anything about it?” he demanded. “Do I—know anything about Miss Preston’s affairs?” echoed Jarvis. “Isn’t that a singular question for you to put to me?” “It would be, if I hadn’t run every possible scent to earth already. I want to find the fellow.” “For what purpose?” queried Jarvis, leaning forward to watch the even play of his mare’s hoofs. “I want to pay him back and free the girl. It’s a damned outrage to hold a woman bound in this sneaking, secret fashion. It doesn’t give either of us any show.” Jarvis appeared to ponder this statement in silence for a while. “Perhaps you’re right,” he said, at last. “There’s no ‘perhaps’ about it,” said David excitedly. “Of course I’m right! Here I’ve been hanging about for months, waiting for the person—whoever it is—to show up. I’m ready to settle the business by paying back the money.” He met the other’s sharply inquiring look with a boastful grimace. “I can do it; don’t make any mistake on that score!” “And after you’ve made the transfer; what then?” Jarvis’s tone was icy; his eyes searched the handsome, flushed face at his side mercilessly. David met his gaze readily enough. “Why,” he blustered, “you may as well know: I intend to marry Barbara. I’d do it, anyway; contract or no contract, and let that damned dog in the manger gnaw his bone till he’s tired of it; only Barbara—Miss Preston—objects. She’s like all women—sticks at a trifle, and yet is ready to swallow the earth, if you give ’em a chance.” “Miss Preston doubtless supposes that her honor is involved. I can conceive that she might do so. A trifle, I believe you called it. And if you——” “Oh, come; what’s the use of talking like that!” David interrupted impatiently. “I’m sick of all that sort of nonsense.” He pulled his hat over his eyes and stared morosely at the landscape. “If I didn’t care as much about the girl as I do, I’d cut the whole thing and go west again. This is no place for a man like me.” “I’m disposed to agree with you,” observed Jarvis calmly. “Shall I set you down here?” David recognized his surroundings with a start. They had reached the outskirts of the village, and Jarvis had stopped his horse in front of his own house. “Oh, I may as well get out here, I suppose,” he said sullenly. He turned and lifted his hat to Jarvis, with a sweeping bow. “Much obliged for the delightful ride,” he said, with a sneering upward quirk of the mouth.