began to pulse between them. Dorothy closed her eyes. 'Dick,' she said faintly, 'please don't marry Nan tomorrow.'
'Dear Dorothy,' he said caressingly, in a moment. 'But it is all arranged.'
Her eyes flew open. She tested this man with every tendril for understanding she could send out of her brain or her heart. 'Do you love Nan?'
His eyes shone. But they had no depth. 'Sweet Dorothy.' He touched her cheek with his forefinger, the hghtest tap. 'Of course, I do. Why else would I be marrying her to-1 morrow?'
Dorothy, from some deep interior caution, now, willed ..her face to change, fo seem to awaken to a new thought. She put hands to her had. 'OhI Dick, will you lend me your car?'
'But how can I?' he said. 'Nan and I must go to the : doctor's office and then to the license place.'
'Would Blanche? Would anybody?' Dorothy danced away.
'Why?' He pursued her.
Dorothy was into the guest-closet to snatch her coat.
'Where do you want to go?' he persisted.
She danced away and started for the stairs. 'I'll ask Blanche. Oh, wait, here's Bart.'
'What's up?' Bart said in his pleasant way. He smiled up at her where she stood on the third step.
'She wants a car,' Dick said, '^but she won't tell why.''
'Take mine,' Bart said, pulled out keys so promptly that it made a vote of confidence.
'I don't know what I've been thinking of all day,' Dorothy cried. 'Nan cant get married tomorrow.' (She paused, on purpose. Without eyes, but with all her other senses, Dorothy inquired of Dick Bartee, his true reaction.) 'I'm not
going to let her get married,' cried Dorothy girlishly, 'without a wedding present from me!'
She knew Dick Bartee now breathed, who had not been breathing.
'My purse,' muttered Dorothy and flew up the stairs. (Now she knew there must be a terrible secretl She had to get to Johnny!)
Below, Bart turned. 'That's right. Weddings mean presents. What would you like?'
Dick let out his breath in a sigh. 'Oh, half the business will do.'
'A bit difficult to tie in ribbons,' Bart said genially. He went into the study. He sat down at his father's desk. When he was alone, his head bent into his hands.
Dorothy came flashing down again. 'Oh, Dick, tell Blanche, will you please? If I don't make it back by dinner time, nobody worry?'
He didn't answer.
When she had gone, he went upstairs. Blanche was standing near the back bedroom door. 'Who ran downstairs?'
'Dorothy.'
'Everything is ready for tomorrow, I think.' Blanche's manner was polite but not afraid. 'Shall I call Nan for you?'
'What's wrong with Dorothy?' he asked her. Some animal sense had been touched to alarm.
'Nothing.' Blanche was surprised.
'Yes, there is something.'
'I suppose she tliinks the wedding is happening too soon. That's all I can imagine . . .'
'That's all?'
'Of course, Dorothy's confused about McCauley. That John Sims, you know. He believed some sob story McCauley told him. Of course, Dorothy did say—'
'McCauley told him?' Dick repeated.
'When John went to talk to him, I suppose John believed the man. That's been the whole trouble.'
'Talked to him? To McCauley?'
'So Dorothy said. In the prison, of course.'
Dick turned away.
'Nan may be napping,' Blanche said. 'Shall I see?'
'I'U wake her,' Dick said.
'1t seems a shame to wake her.'
'It will have to be done,' he said, rather grimly.
Downstairs, Bart was on the telephone. 'Mr. Harris? I believe my nephew was in to see you last week? About a rather laige loan? Could you tell me what security he was offering?'
'I don't think I can,' said the voice. 'Sorry. Ask him.'
