"You are a.s.suming he suspects or questions. He may take the two hundred thousand and ask no question."

"You don't for a moment believe that!" he laughed.

"It _is_ doubtful," she admitted.

"And you wouldn't think the same of him, if he did."

"I admit it!" she said.

"So, we are back to the thin ice. I'll do what I can; but, you forgot, I am not at liberty to give his address to my brokers. I shall have to take their written offer to buy, and forward it to him, which, in itself will oblige me, at the same time, to tell him that _I_ am not the purchaser."

"I leave it entirely to you--manage it any way you see fit. All I ask, is that you get him to sell. It's horrible to think of Geoffrey being reduced to the bare necessities of life--for that's what it means, when he goes 'where his income is sufficient for his needs.'"

"It's unfortunate, certainly: it would be vastly worse for a woman--to go from luxury to frugality, from everything to relatively nothing is positively pathetic. However, Croyden is not suffering--he has an attractive house filled with old things, good victuals, a more than competent cook, and plenty of society. He has cut out all the non-essentials, and does the essentials economically."

"You have been there?" she demanded. "You speak of your own knowledge, not from his inferences?"

"I have been there!" he answered.

"And the society--what of it?" she asked quickly.

"Better than our own!" he said, instantly.

"Indeed!" she replied with lifted eye-brows. "Our own in the aggregate or differentiated?"

"In the aggregate!" he laughed; "but quite the equal of our own differentiated. If Croyden were a marrying man--with sufficient income for two--I should give him about six months, at the outside."

"And how much would you give one with sufficient for two--_yourself_, for instance?"

"Just long enough to choose the girl--and convince her of the propriety of the choice."

"And do you expect to join Geoffrey, soon?" meaningly.

"As soon as I can get through here,--probably in a day or two."

"Then, we may look for the new Mrs. Macloud in time for the holidays, I presume.--Sort of a Christmas gift?"

"About then--if I can pick among so many, and she ratifies the pick."

"You haven't, yet, chosen?"

"No!--there are so many I didn't have time to more than look them over.

When I go back, I'll round them up, cut out the most likely, and try to tie and brand her."

"Colin!" cried Miss Cavendish. "One would think, from your talk, that Geoffrey was in a cowboy camp, with waitresses for society."

He grinned, and lighted a fresh cigarette.

She tossed him an alluring look.

"And nothing can induce you to tell me the location of the camp?" she implored.

He smoked, a bit, in silence. Should he or should he not?...

"No!--not now!" he said, slowly. "Let us try the bond matter, first. If he sells, I think he will return; if not, I'll then consider telling."

"You're a good fellow, Colin, dear!" she whispered, leaning over and giving his hand an affectionate little pat. "You're so nice and comfortable to have around--you never misunderstand, nor draw inferences that you shouldn't."

"Which means, I'm not to draw inferences now?" he said.

"Nor at any other time," she remarked.

"And the reward?"

"Will be forthcoming," with an alluring smile.

"I've a mind to take part payment now," said he, intercepting the hand before she could withdraw it.

"If you can, sir!" whisking it loose, and darting around a table.

"A challenge, is it? Oh, very well!" and he sprang after.

With a swift movement, she swept up her skirts and fled--around chairs, and tables, across rugs, over sofas and couches--always manoeuvring to gain the doorway, yet always finding him barring the way;--until, at last, she was forced to refuge behind a huge davenport, standing with one end against the wall.

"Now, will you surrender?" he demanded, coming slowly toward her in the cul de sac.

She shook her head, smiling the while.

"I'll be merciful," he said. "It is five steps, until I reach you--One!--Will you yield?"

"No!"

"Two!--will you yield?"

"No!"

"Three!--will you yield?"

"No!"

"Four----"

Quick as thought, she dropped one hand on the back of the davenport; there was a flash of slippers, lingerie and silk, and she was across and racing for the door, now fair before her, leaving him only the echo of a mocking laugh.

"Five!" she counted, tauntingly, from the hall. "Why don't you continue, sir?"

"I stop with four," he said. "I'll be good for to-night, Elaine--you need have no further fear."