sort of
professional way. But she had not been prepared for the reply.

The fact is Irene had not been at all sure that she wanted to marry
Dave Elden. She wanted very much to meet him again; she was curious to
know how the years had fared with him, and her curiosity was not
unmixed with a finer sentiment; but she was not at all sure that she
should marry him. She had tried to picture him in the eye of her
imagination; she was sure he had acquired a modest education; he had
probably been reasonably successful in business, either as an employee,
or, in a small way, on his own account. She was moderately sure of all
this; but there were pessimistic moods in which she saw him slipping
back into the indifference of his old life soon after the inspiration
of her presence had been withdrawn; perhaps still living with his
bibulous father on the ranch in the foothills, or perhaps following the
profession of cow puncher, held in such contempt by her mother. And in
such moods she was sorry, but she knew she could never, never marry him.

"What, Dave Elden, the millionaire?" Bert Morrison had said.
"Everybody knows him." And then the newspaper woman had gone on to
tell what a figure Dave was in the business life of the city, and to
declare that he might be equally prominent in the social life, did his
fancies lead him in that direction. "One of our biggest young men,"
Bert Morrison had said. "Reserved, a little; likes his own company
best; but absolutely white."

That gave a new turn to the situation. Irene had always wanted Dave to
be a success; suddenly she doubted whether she had wanted him to be so
big a success. And with that doubt came another and more disturbing
one, which, if it had ever before crossed her mind, had found no
harbourage there. She had doubted whether she should wish to marry
Dave; she had never allowed herself to doubt that Dave would wish to
marry her. Secretly, she had expected to rather dazzle him with her
ten years' development--with the culture and knowledge which study and
travel and life had added to the charm of her young girlhood; and
suddenly she realized that her lustre would shine but dimly in the
greater glory of his own. . . . She became conscious of a very great
desire to renew with Dave the intimacy of her girlhood.

It was easy to locate the office of Conward & Elden; it stood on a
principal corner of a principal street, and the name was blazoned to
the wayfarer in great gi