daughter,
though,--not by a long shot."

"It's enough," she insisted. "Why, even without the house it would be
enough."

"Yes," he answered, with a smile. "When you say it--it's enough. I
wish Stuyvesant knew you."

The blood came into her cheeks. She wished he wouldn't say things like
that.

"It seems to me you ought to see him and tell him," she said
thoughtfully.

He shook his head.

"What's the use of seeing him until I've seen Frances?"

"It's all settled about her."

"That she'll marry me in September?"

"Of course," she answered excitedly. "Why, she's been waiting a whole
year. Do you think she'll want to wait any longer? As soon as she
knows how well you've done, why--why, that's the end of it. Of course
that's the end of it."

"I wish I were as confident as you!"

"You must be," she answered firmly. "You mustn't feel any other way.
The house is all ready, and you are all ready, and--that's all there
is to it."

"And Frances is all ready?"

"When she promised to marry you she was ready," she declared. "You
don't understand. I guess women are different from men. They--they
don't make promises like that until they are quite sure, and when they
are quite sure they are quite ready. This last year should have been
hers. You made a mistake, but there's no sense in keeping on with the
mistake. Oh, I'm quite sure of that."

She was wearing a light scarf,--this was at Jacques',--and she drew it
over her shoulders. Somehow, the unconscious act reminded him of a
similar act on the beach at Coney....

CHAPTER XXIV

VACATIONS

During this next week--the week Frances was on the ocean and sailing
toward him--he gained in confidence day by day. Miss Winthrop was so
absolutely sure of her point of view that it was difficult in her
presence to have any doubts.

Frances was due to arrive on Monday, and for Sunday he had arranged at
Jacques' a very special little dinner for Miss Winthrop. Miss Winthrop
herself did not know how special it was, because all dinners there
with him were special. There were roses upon the table. Their odor
would have turned her head had it not been for the realization that
her trunk was all packed and that to-morrow morning she would be upon
the train. She had written to an aunt in Maine that she was coming--to
this particular aunt because, of the three or four she knew at all,
this aunt was the farthest from New York.

As for him, he had forgotten entirely that Monda