e too. Maybe I can find one of
those Optic books, and we'll be young again."

"Just for old time's sake," she said impulsively. "You'll stay for
luncheon, too."

"I'll have to be at the--no, I won't, either. Do you know, I was
thinking I had to be at the bank at twelve-thirty to let Mr. Perkins go
out for something to eat? The millionaire habit isn't so firmly fixed
as I supposed." After a moment's pause, in which his growing
seriousness changed the atmosphere, he went on, haltingly, uncertain of
his position: "The nicest thing about having all this money is
that--that--we won't have to deny ourselves anything after this." It
did not sound very tactful, now that it was out, and he was compelled
to scrutinize rather intently a familiar portrait in order to maintain
an air of careless assurance. She did not respond to this venture, but
he felt that she was looking directly into his sorely-tried brain.
"We'll do any amount of decorating about the house and--and you know
that furnace has been giving us a lot of trouble for two or three
years--" he was pouring out ruthlessly, when her hand fell gently on
his own and she stood straight and tall before him, an odd look in her
eyes.

"Don't--please don't go on, Monty," she said very gently but without
wavering. "I know what you mean. You are good and very thoughtful,
Monty, but you really must not."

"Why, what's mine is yours--" he began.

"I know you are generous, Monty, and I know you have a heart. You want
us to--to take some of your money,"--it was not easy to say it, and as
for Monty, he could only look at the floor. "We cannot, Monty,
dear,--you must never speak of it again. Mamma and I had a feeling that
you would do it. But don't you see,--even from you it is an offer of
help, and it hurts."

"Don't talk like that, Peggy," he implored.

"It would break her heart if you offered to give her money in that way.
She'd hate it, Monty. It is foolish, perhaps, but you know we can't
take your money."

"I thought you--that you--oh, this knocks all the joy out of it," he
burst out desperately.

"Dear Monty!"

"Let's talk it over, Peggy; you don't understand--" he began, dashing
at what he thought would be a break in her resolve.

"Don't!" she commanded, and in her blue eyes was the hot flash he had
felt once or twice before.

He rose and walked across the floor, back and forth again, and then
stood before her, a smile on his lips--a rather pitiful smile, but
sti