ith it?" she added quietly.

"I--I don't get you."

"Elope, idiot child! You and she are both of age. Consider the late
Mr. Ajax of Greece--he defied the lightning and got away with it! They
can't do more than excommunicate you with bell and book and candle."

"But that's plenty, Aunt Ocky." A smile that had greeted her
suggestion faded away, leaving him gloomier than ever. "If I only had
to think about myself--! But I can't let Sheila in for a lot of
hardship. It costs money, these days, to live in even the most
moderate comfort, and all I could bring into the family treasury would
be just what I could earn with my two hands--supposing I was lucky
enough to find a job! It wouldn't be fair to Sheila--that's the long
and short of it."

"Have you given her a chance to speak for herself?" His aunt sniffed
contemptuously. "Gracious goodness, Copley, isn't there something more
in life than money? Don't people think of anything else in America?"

"Oh, yes. It's a free country and a man has a perfect right to be a
visionary and starve to death if he wants to. It just happens I
don't!" He grinned as some of her disgust went into a savage slashing
of uncut edges. "As things are, I don't believe I'll ask Sheila to
share my crust of bread."

"Then I'll ask her for you--blessed if I don't! I intended to run over
and see her in the morning, anyway. Did it ever strike you that
matchmaking is the proper business of old maids? They atone for
celibacy through vicarious marriage!"

"So that is the explanation of their favorite indoor sport, is it? But
I can't regard you as a confirmed old maid, Aunt Ocky." He moved to
her side and dropped a hand affectionately on her shoulder. "If you
won't think me awfully fresh for saying it--you're about the youngest
looking woman for your age that I've ever laid eyes on."

"Oh, thank you, Copley; thank you very much. Really, I must remember
you in my will for them kind words! But about to-morrow--may I
represent myself as being your plenipotentiary?"

"Sure thing. Go as far as you like, Aunt Ocky. Anything you start,
I'll finish." The sound of a chair being pushed back in the study
caught his ear and indicated a discreet change of subject. He stooped
to retrieve the dagger that had slipped from her lap and examined it a
moment. For all its exquisite beauty of design and workmanship, it was
a wicked little weapon. "You have a bloodthirsty taste in paper
cutters,