the idea of falling
in her esteem. He pondered a bit. By Jove, he _would n't_ fall in her
esteem. He sat up straight from his slouching position and squared his
shoulders. He would n't disappoint her, either! Everybody had
disappointed him, but that was no reason why he should disappoint
_her_! He suddenly laughed aloud. If they would n't raise his salary,
he'd take things into his own hands. He'd be independent of the firm.
He'd raise it himself. If he were going to lie to Honey, why not lie
to some effect? He sat back, chuckling!

Why hadn't he thought of it before? It would be dead easy!

He'd raise himself five dollars a week! All he had to do was to take
it out of his own bank account. Every week he'd cash a check for five
dollars in New York. He always kept his personal check-book in the
firm's safe. When he handed Honey his salary, he would give her the
"extra five" to deposit to the credit of their account in the
Meadeville National. It would work out beautifully. Nobody would be
any the wiser and if nobody would be any the richer, surely nobody
would be any the poorer, and--he would not have to disappoint Honey.

Skinner began to look at the scheme from various angles, as was his
custom in every business transaction. Was there any danger of Honey
finding him out? No. She never saw the check-book, only the
bank-book, and when he had that balanced he'd be careful to attend to
it himself. She 'd never even see the canceled checks. Surely, there
was no sin in it. He had a right to do what he liked with his own
money. And he was n't really doing _anything_ with it, after all,
simply passing it around in a harmless circle. But would n't he be
deceiving her, his best friend?--putting her in a fool's paradise?
Well, by jingo, he _would_ put her in a fool's paradise and let her
revel in it, for once in her life, and before she had a chance to find
out, he'd make it a _real_ paradise--he did n't know just how, but he
would!

Skinner stepped off the train at Meadeville and threaded his way
between the glaring, throbbing automobiles to the slush-covered
sidewalk. He no longer felt his customary resentment of these social
pretenders that whizzed by him in their devil-wagons--leaving him to
inhale the stench of their gasoline. In a way, he was one of them now.
By his ingenious little scheme of circulating his own money, strictly
in his own domestic circle, he had elected himself to the bluffer