eavy with meaning.

"Well what?" asked Aline pleasantly.

"How," demanded Griswold, "do you like Charles Cochran for an
architect?"

"How should I know?" asked Aline. "I've not met him yet!"

She had said it! And she had said it without the waver of one of her
lovely eyelashes. No wonder the public already hailed her as a
finished actress! Griswold felt that his worst fears were justified.
She had lied to him. And, as he knew she had never before lied to him,
that now she did so proved beyond hope of doubt that the reason for it
was vital, imperative, and compelling. But of his suspicions Griswold
gave no sign. He would not at once expose her. He had trapped her,
but as yet she must not know that. He would wait until he had still
further entangled her--until she could not escape; and then, with
complete proof of her deceit, he would confront and overwhelm her.

With this amiable purpose in mind he called early the next morning upon
Post & Constant and asked to see Mr. Cochran. He wished, he said, to
consult him about the new house. Post had not yet reached the office,
and of Griswold's visit with Post to his house Cochran was still
ignorant. He received Griswold most courteously. He felt that the man
who was loved by the girl he also had long and hopelessly worshipped
was deserving of the highest consideration. Griswold was less
magnanimous. When he found his rival--for as such he beheld him--was
of charming manners and gallant appearance he considered that fact an
additional injury; but he concealed his resentment, for he was going to
trap Cochran, too.

He found the architect at work leaning over a drawing-board, and as
they talked Cochran continued to stand. He was in his shirt-sleeves,
which were rolled to his shoulders; and the breadth of those shoulders
and the muscles of his sunburned arms were much in evidence. Griswold
considered it a vulgar exhibition.

For over ten minutes they talked solely of the proposed house, but not
once did Griswold expose the fact that he had seen any more of it than
any one might see from the public road. When he rose to take his leave
he said:

"How would it do if I motored out Sunday and showed your house to Miss
Proctor? Sunday is the only day she has off, and if it would not
inconvenience you--"

The tender heart of Cochran leaped in wild tumult; he could not conceal
his delight, nor did he attempt to do so; and his expression made it
entirely unnecessary