at old saying that the hand is quicker than
the eye. At least, he gazed somewhat confused at the portrait which I
now produced before his eyes.

"Who was she?" he inquired.

"A very charming young lady of rank, who eloped with a young man not
of rank. In short, although she did not marry a chauffeur, she did
marry an automobile agent. And surely, Jimmy, your Auntie
Helen--whoever she may be--would do no such thing as that and still
claim to be a cousin of a L'Olonnois?"

"I don't know. You can't always tell what a girl's going to do," said
Jimmy sagely. "But I don't think Auntie Helen's going to marry a auto
man."

"Why, Jimmy?" (I found pleasure and dread alike in this conversation.)

"Because everybody says she's going to get married to Mr. Davidson,
and he's a commission man."

Now, I am sure, my face did not flush. It may have paled. I tried to
be composed. I reached for the melon dish and remarked, "Yes? And who
is he? And really, who is your Auntie Helena, Jimmy, and what does she
look like?" I spoke with a fine air of carelessness.

"She looks like the princess, you said," replied Jimmy. "And Mr.
Davidson's rich. He's got a house on our lake, this summer, and he
lives in New York and has offices in Chicago, and travels a good deal.
He has some sort of factory, too, and he's awful rich. I like him
pretty well. He knows how all the ball clubs stand, both leagues,
every day in the year. You ought to know him, because then you might
get to know my Auntie Helena. If they got married, like as not, I
could take you up to their house. I thought everybody knew Mr.
Davidson, and my Auntie Helena, too."

Everybody did. Why should I not know Cal Davidson, one of the
decentest chaps in the world? Why not, since we belonged to half a
dozen of the same clubs in New York and other cities? Why not, since
this very summer I had put my private yacht (named oddly enough, the
_Belle Helene_) in commission for the first season in three years, and
chartered her for the summer around Mackinaw, and a cruise down the
Mississippi to the Gulf that fall? Why not, since I had still unbanked
the handsome check Davidson had insisted on my taking as charter money
for the last quarter?

Davidson! Of all men I had counted him my friend. And now here was he,
reputed to be about to marry the girl who, as he knew, must have
known, ought to have known, was all the world to me! Even if she would
have none of me, and even though I had no sha