n there and I will arrange
it."

He went as she directed, into a little reception-room, and there he
waited while subdued feminine greetings were exchanged in the hall
without. Then, at last, through the doorway came the gracious, lovely
figure of the girl.

"Oh," she whispered, "I knew you would come, dear--I knew."

He took her hands and drew her to him. But with a glance at the doorway
she held herself away from him.

In his delight at seeing her he had almost forgotten his mission. But now
he remembered.

"I have the papers," he said, taking them from his pocket.

"I was sure you had them. I was sure that you would come."

He laid them in her hands. "Forgive me, Girl, for fooling you with that
blank contract."

She laughed happily. "I didn't look at it until I got home. Then I was so
disappointed that I almost cried. But when I thought it over, I
understood. Oh, my dear, I believed in you so strongly that even then I
went to my father and told him that the papers were on the way--that they
would be here in time. I just simply _knew_ you would come."

Regardless of the open doorway he clasped her closely, and she buried her
face in his coat with a little laugh that was almost a sob. Then,
suddenly, she left him standing there and, holding the papers tight, went
from the room.

CHAPTER XIX

A SAVED SITUATION

He waited impatiently for her return. Bessie, he knew, might be in one of
the rooms just across the hall, but, though Bessie was a trump, he did
not go to look for her. The girl might come back at any moment--and he
did not wish to miss one instant of her presence.

Again he considered the miracle of her appearance in his life, and he
rejoiced that, from the first, he had been able to be of service to her.
Those loving, trusting words that she had just spoken--how they glowed in
his heart! She had known that he would succeed! He could only think that
the secret telegraphy of his love had sent her messages of confidence.

And yet he did not even know her name. The house was just such a one as
he might have imagined to be her home--beautiful, with the air of a
longer family tradition than is commonly found in the Middle
West--unobtrusive but complete. And the furnishings of the room in which
he was standing were in quiet but perfect taste.

On a table near him lay a book. Mechanically he picked it up.

It opened at the fly-leaf. Something was written there--her name,
perhaps.

He clos