all it."

"You?"

"Yes; I'll tell you about it some time--no, not now"--shaking her
head--"dinner is ready."

It was thus that Fleetwell kept his promise to his cousin, and there had
been never so much as a word about what Mr. Francis Vennor considered
the main question at issue, namely, the fate of Gertrude's legacy. And
when they came to the table together they were so evidently at peace
that the President drew another false conclusion and wore his best King
George smile throughout the entire dinner-hour.

At the conclusion of the meal, Fleetwell dodged the customary cigar with
his cousin. Under the circumstances he deemed it prudent to give the
chapter of accidents a clear field. Moreover, he conjectured that
Gertrude had somewhat to say to her father, and would be grateful for an
undisturbed half-hour; wherefore he proposed a stroll up-town to Mrs.
Dunham and the Misses Beaswicke, and presently left the car with the
three of them in tow.

The President was in his stateroom, refilling his cigar-case; and when
he came out, Gertrude and Quatremain were alone in the large
compartment.

"Where are the others?" he asked, pausing at her chair to light his
cigar.

"They have gone up-town for a walk."

"H-m; and left you behind?"

"I didn't care to go." She saw that her opportunity was come, and gave
the secretary a look which should have made him vanish at once. It did
not, but her father cut the knot of that difficulty.

"It's a fine night; will you take a turn outside with me, while I
smoke?" he said.

She acquiesced, and they went out to pace up and down the long platform.
Two turns they made in silence while Gertrude sought vainly for words
confessional, and at the third her father helped her without intending
to.

"When is it to be?" he asked, abruptly.

She supposed he meant her marriage to Brockway, but she determined to
make him speak plainly. So she said, "When is what to be?"

"Your marriage. Didn't you and Chester settle matters between you just
before dinner?"

She laid fresh hold of her courage and answered, truthfully. "Yes, but
not as you imagine. Chester asked me, because, I fancy, you told him to;
and I refused him."

She expected nothing less than an outpouring of bitter words, but she
was disappointed. Once and again they measured the length of the great
platform before he spoke. Then he said, quite temperately, she thought,
"So it is the passenger agent, after all, is it?"

"Yes.