l his son had disappeared. Then he cleared his
throat and wheeled upon Patience without ceremony.

"Now, listen, Miss Welcome, you're not taking this seriously, I hope."

"No, Mr. Boland," she replied, moving toward the door. "I've tried to
tell Harry how impossible it is--that--"

"You're a sensible girl," he broke in bluntly. "As it happens, Harry is
already engaged."

The girl's breath came in short, sharp gasps, but she managed to control
her voice as she murmured:

"He is?"

"Yes."

Boland placed his fingers in his vest pocket and drew out a fountain pen,
the point of which he examined attentively. Patience felt that she ought
to go at once, but somehow she couldn't. She stood there trembling,
scarcely knowing whether or not she should believe the other's statement.
She could not believe that Harry would do such an ignoble thing.

Boland glanced over his shoulder and saw her still hesitating on the
threshold.

"Yes," he repeated blandly. "He is going to marry the daughter of my
business partner--a girl who will inherit half a million."

He could see from the corner of his eye that the shot had told, but still
Patience lingered, dazed.

"I--I see," she faltered weakly.

"Now you go along like a good girl," advised Boland, "and I'll see that
you are treated fairly."

He opened a pretentious looking check book which lay on the desk.

"Just tell me how much you want and--"

"Nothing!" was the firm, decisive reply.

He eyed the girl critically as he remarked:

"You look as though ready money were a stranger to you."

"It is--but I have a position with the Mining Company in this building."

"I know them," declared Boland thoughtfully. Patience made no comment.
She went on proudly, drawing her figure to its full height:

"And I want nothing; I am _giving_ you back your son, Mr. Boland, I am
not selling him to you."

He shrugged his shoulders and stared stupidly at the vacant doorway as he
heard the girlish voice in the hallway, saying:

"Down, please."

He closed his check book with a snap, and involuntarily fumbled about his
well arranged desk, replacing a paper here and a contract there.

"Hum!" he mused, "I thought there was something wrong with Harry."

The desk telephone rang sharply. He picked up the instrument and placed
the receiver to his ear.

"Hello! hello!" he jerked out irritably. "Yes--yes, this is John Boland.
Who wants me?"

His acute features contracted as he listened to