ttle company, and just for a moment the old, cold
light shot into his eye. But it was only for a moment.

"My dear Isabel, I am very glad to see you home again."

The greeting which the financier would have extended to his other
guests was lost forever in the impulsive rush which landed Mrs.
Wilkinson in her father's arms. Any regret which may have lingered was
banished in the shock of this impact; and it was a resigned parent who
emerged from this embrace to resume his corner in the reunited world.

It remained for his son-in-law to pronounce the valedictory over the
vanishing fragments of the family breach.

"Mr. Hurd, ever since the day you flung in my astounded face my
character and attainments, depicted in simple but effective words of
one syllable, I have felt that there was not only force, but a good
deal of truth, in your pungent observations. As I remember telling you
at the time, had I appreciated the disgraceful facts as you summed them
up, I could only in justice to Isabel have joined my efforts to your
own in endeavoring to prevent so fatal an alliance. But it was too
late. And now that the thing is done, the child of Mr. Hurd, having
inherited some of that gentleman's fixity of purpose and tenacity of
idea, is still of the opinion--Isabel, even if I am wrong, please do
not contradict me--that she needs the stimulus of my desultory presence
to keep her en rapport with life. Isabel has come to find strangely
piquant the sensation of uncertainty as to the approaching meal. She
has come to feel that certainty in such a matter is a species of
bourgeoisie. At all events we are now Mr. and Mrs. Wilkinson; and
however deeply we regret the lack of enthusiasm in that connection of
my esteemed father-in-law, I can only suggest to him that, although
probably no one in the world has as poor an opinion of me as he has, if
he keeps that opinion to himself there is no reason why the world in
general should ever learn the truth. Certainly it shall be my life
work to prevent it; and maybe when in the years to come I am passing
the plate in some far suburban tabernacle of worship, all will be
forgotten. Helen, may I trouble you to hand me those sandwiches?"

Mr. Hurd emitted a dry chuckle.

"For the honor of the family, Charlie, I'll never tell," he said.

It was dark when at last Miss Maitland, under the escort of Smith,
started homeward toward Deerfield Street. And even then, not so
directly homeward lay