"Some c.o.c.ktail, eh?" grinned Jimmie, smacking his lips.

"Fine!" exclaimed his fiancee, emptying her gla.s.s and putting it down on the table.

Suddenly the clerk's eyes, wandering idly around the room, alighted on the tray filled with cigar and cigarette boxes which the butler had left behind. Rising and going to the table, he stood staring greedily at some expensive perfectos. Finally, unable any longer to withhold his itching palm, he put out his hand and selected one. He lit it and for a few moments puffed away with evident satisfaction. The more he puffed and inhaled the weed's fragrant aroma, the more sorry he was that he had none of the same brand at home. Acting on a sudden impulse, he went back to the table and took half a dozen cigars out of the box. He was about to stuff them into his pocket when Virginia, stepping quickly forward, interfered:

"Jimmie!" she exclaimed indignantly.

He stayed his hand and rather shamefacedly placed the cigars back in the box. Looking up, he demanded:

"Why not? He wouldn't mind."

"Just the same, it isn't a gentlemanly thing to do," she said severely.

"If it comes to that," he retorted sharply, "I ain't a gentleman--I'm a shipping clerk."

"Then, of course, there's nothing more to say," she answered, turning her back. Picking up a book, she dropped into a chair and, ignoring him, relapsed into a dignified silence.

But Jimmie was not to be suppressed by a mere rebuff. After a long, sulky silence, during which he puffed viciously at his cigar, he followed his prospective sister-in-law across the room. After staring at her for some time, he inquired:

"How did you first come to know Mr. Stafford?"

At first the girl made no answer, pretending to be absorbed in what she was reading. He repeated the question so pointedly that she would not ignore it any longer. Looking up, she said rather impatiently:

"How many more times must I tell you? I was at my desk in the hotel about three months ago and he came and wanted long distance--I think it was Washington. There was some trouble getting his party and, as people will, we got into conversation about it. I had no idea who he was--"

f.a.n.n.y, who had come up, listened intently to the conversation, and, to encourage her little sister to become confidential, arranged some pillows behind her back in motherly fashion. Long before this the elder sister had come to conclusions of her own concerning Virginia's acquaintance with the millionaire. When a man of his wealth and position took the trouble to pay a girl of Virginia's station such marked attention, capping the climax with this present invitation to dine at his house, either his intentions were not avowable or else he was very much in love and wanted to marry her, which last hypothesis sent a thrill down the good sister's back. Virgie the wife of a millionaire! It seemed incredible--too good to be true. It would be the making of all of them. She was glad Jimmie had brought up the subject.

"Did you know then who he was?" she asked.

Virginia laughed as if the question amused her.

"No," she replied, "to tell you the truth, I didn't much care. A girl who handles a telephone desk at our hotel hasn't got much time to bother about anything else."

"When _did_ you find out?" inquired Jimmie, suddenly taking a lively interest in the conversation.

"About a month later--that day he sent downstairs for a stenographer.

I told you all about it at the time. I asked at the desk if it was all right to go to his rooms. They told me who he was and explained that he often transacted a lot of business there. That's how we got acquainted. Since then, as you know, I have seen a great deal of him, telephoning and doing copying for him. He has been very kind, indeed.

One day he asked me to go to dinner with him--"

"Did you?" demanded Jimmie.

"Certainly not," replied the girl emphatically. "Then he used to come nearly every day. One time I--I think he had been--drinking."

"He was--drunk?" exclaimed f.a.n.n.y in surprise.

"Oh, no! Not that," said Virginia quickly, "but I could see he had been drinking."

"Just lit up a bit to show that he's human, eh?" said Jimmie with a grin.

Paying no attention to the interruption, Virginia went on:

"I didn't like him quite so much after that. He asked me again--"

"And you wouldn't?" interrupted f.a.n.n.y.

"Of course not!"

Jimmie chuckled. Crossing his legs and striking the ashes from his cigar, he said:

"Say, but that was foxy!"

"What was?" demanded Virginia quickly.

"Making him think that he having money made no difference."

"It didn't."

"Sure it didn't," he laughed. "That was the way to play it."

"What do you mean?" cried the girl indignantly. "I wasn't 'playing'

anything or anybody."

Paying no heed to the frantic signs which f.a.n.n.y was making for him to keep silent, the shipping clerk went on:

"Why not? It's all in the game."

Ignoring him, Virginia continued:

"He finally asked me to dine with him here and to bring you and Jim. I had told him about your being engaged."

The young man nodded approvingly. With a patronizing air he said:

"I'm beginning to think this fellow Stafford's on the level. He might even want to marry you."

Virginia flushed scarlet. Confusedly she exclaimed:

"Don't be absurd!"

"But if he did," insisted f.a.n.n.y, "_would_ you marry him?"

Jimmie laughed loudly:

"_Would_ she!" he chuckled. "Say, f.a.n.n.y, are you crazy?"

Virginia shook her head. Slowly she said:

"I don't know that I would."

"What!" exclaimed the clerk, half starting from his chair. "Do you mean to say that if any man as rich as Stafford was to ask you on the level to be his wife that you wouldn't jump at the chance?"