boy,
when he thought it would look much better to take it himself; besides,
he had business to attend to in that locality.

As he stepped upon the street car, he purchased a daily paper to pass
away the time.

Upon opening it, an article met his view that nearly took his breath
away.

The caption read:

"_A Romance in Real Life.--The Prettiest Girl in the City and a
Well-known Young Millionaire the Hero and Heroine of the Episode_."

Following this was an account of Gerelda's abduction, as she had related
it. In conclusion there was a statement by Mrs. Northrup to the effect
that Gerelda's lover, Mr. Varrick, was anxious to have the ceremony
consummated at once, and, in accordance with his earnest wish, the
marriage would take place shortly.

Varrick stared hard at the paper.

"The whole matter seems to have been fully arranged and settled without
the formality of consulting me," he muttered, grimly.

After that he could see no way out of it. This had gone broadcast
throughout the city, he told himself, and now what could he do but marry
Gerelda; otherwise it would subject her to the severest criticism, and
himself to scorn.

A woman's good name was at stake. Was he not in honor bound to shield
her? He would have been startled had he but known that this newspaper
article was the work of Mrs. Northrup.

"I might as well accept the inevitable as my fate," he murmured, with a
sigh. "I might have been happy with Gerelda if I had never known Jessie
Bain."

When he arrived at the Northrup mansion, Gerelda's mother came down to
welcome him.

Like her daughter, she did not appear to notice his constraint, and
greeted him effusively, as in the old days.

"Have you seen the morning paper, Hubert?" she asked, with a little
rippling laugh on her lips. "It is amusing to me how these newspaper men
get hold of things so quickly. I was down to one of the stores this
afternoon ordering the wedding-cards. I knew you would be anxious to get
them, and I wanted to relieve your mind and Gerelda's as well. I was
telling the designer the whole story--you know he is the same person who
got up the last cards for you--when a man who stood near us, he must
have been a reporter--took in every word I said. A few hours later, a
young man representing the paper came up to interview me on the subject,
remarking that I might as well tell the public the whole story, as the
main part of the affair was already in print. He gave me a _res