were duly transferred and witnessed, Croyden attached a draft
drawn on an ordinary sheet of paper, dated Northumberland, and payable
to his account at the Tuscarora Trust Company. He placed them in an
envelope, sealed it and, enclosing it in a second envelope, passed it
over to Macloud.

"I don't care to inform them as to my whereabouts," he remarked, "so,
if you don't mind, I'll trouble you to address this to some one in New
York or Philadelphia, with a request that he mail the enclosed envelope
for you."

Macloud, when he had done as requested, laid aside the pen and looked
inquiringly at Croyden.

"Which, being interpreted," he said, "might mean that you don't intend
to return to Northumberland."

"The interpretation does not go quite so far; it means, simply, that I
have not decided."

"Don't you want to come back?" Macloud asked.

"It's a question of resolution, not of inclination," Croyden answered.
"I don't know whether I've sufficient resolution to go, and sufficient
resolution to stay, if I do go. It may be easier not to go, at all--to
live here, and wander, elsewhere, when the spirit moves."

And Macloud understood. "I've been thinking over the proposition you
recently advanced of the folly of a relatively poor man marrying a rich
girl," he said, "and you're all wrong. It's a question of the
respective pair, not a theory that can be generalized over. I admit,
the man should not be a pauper, but, if he have enough money to support
_himself_, and the girl love him and he loves the girl, the fact that
she has gobs more money, won't send them on the rocks. It's up to the
pair, I repeat."

"Meaning, that it would be up to Elaine Cavendish and me?" answered
Croyden.

"If you please, yes!" said Macloud.

"I wish I could be so sure," Croyden reflected. "Sure of the girl, as
well as sure of myself."

"What are you doubtful about--yourself?"

Croyden laughed, a trifle self-consciously.

"I fancy I could manage myself," he said.

"Elaine?"

"Yes, Elaine!"

"Try her!--she's worth the try."

"From a monetary standpoint?" smiling.

"Get the miserable money out of your mind a moment, will you?--you're
hipped on it!"

"All right, old man, anything for peace! Tell me, did you see her, when
you were home?"

"I did--I dined with her."

"Who else was there?"

"You--she talked Croyden at least seven-eighths of the time; I, the
other eighth."

"Must have been an interesting conversation. Anything l