So he had tried a little speculating, and won; a little more, and won again. (It was at this time that he bought Joan her modest automobile.) After that, the story is too trite to need repeating. There came the depression of 1913, later the cataclysm of the war; and Archie with the finances of Moore and Company at his disposal. He lost, heavily, and borrowed to protect himself; recovered enough to replace his borrowings; went in deeper--and was caught with no means of making good some $15,000. "Our house?" suggested Joan, trembling. "Mortgaged up to the eaves. Our equity in it wouldn't be a drop in the bucket." "What about your stock in that Building Association!" He laughed. "Swallowed up so long ago I'd forgotten I ever had any.... No, dear, I'm done. I took a long chance, and I took it once too often. Nothing for it but to serve out whatever term they give me, and then come back and--show 'em." His set jaw quivered a little. "'Serve out'--Archie! You don't mean _jail_?" He nodded, still with his amazing quietness. "I want to. It's coming to me. And I'm young yet. You'll see!... But that don't mean _you're_ to be mixed up in it," he added, slowly. "When I go to the Pen, that lets you out, dear. You get your freedom. Nobody will expect you to--to stay married to a criminal." He was watching her closely, and she stared back at him. He had proposed the monstrous idea seemingly in all seriousness, as if it were one to which he had given long consideration. "Don't talk that way!" she said, with sudden sternness. "Of course you are not to go to jail. I'll fix that somehow--I'll get the money." But still she could not go to him, could not offer him any comfort. She was too stunned. This did not seem to her Archie, this quiet stranger who spoke so casually of penitentiaries and criminals and divorce. They were glad when people came to interrupt them. And people did come, in a steady stream. It seemed as if half the town had read that hastily suppressed news-item, and were determined that Archie Blair should not go to prison. "It's most worth while getting into trouble to see how many friends you've got you never knew about!" he sighed. The rescuers began with Effie May, check-book in hand and panting with distress, so upset that she had forgotten to rouge her face; and it ended with Mr. Florsheimer of the Gents' Furnishing, who intimated that if a couple of thou' at the usual rate of interest would be of any use to Archie, they were his. The offer that perhaps touched him the most deeply came from the Misses Darcy. "We happen to be at the moment temporarily embarrassed for funds," explained Miss Iphigenia, at her stateliest, (and looking curiously like her Cousin Richard). "But it will be a simple matter to arrange another mortgage on our house. Dear papa did so frequently, I remember. And of course in a--an accident of this sort--Why, my dear boy, that is what houses are for!"