time--"that she'd marry me June first _if she
lived to see the day_."

"Oh!" Penny gasped, then, controlling her horror, she asked with what
sounded like real curiosity, "Then what--happened, Ralph? Why do you
propose to _her_ on Thursday and to _me_ on--on Sunday?"

"A gorgeous actress sacrificed to the typewriter," Dundee told himself,
as he waited for Ralph Hammond's reluctant reply.

"Can't we forget it, honey?... You do love me a little, don't you? Can't
you take my word for it that--I'm cured now--forever?"

Penny's hands went up to cover her face, and Dundee had the grace to
feel very sorry indeed for her--sorry even if she intended to give her
promise to Ralph Hammond, as a sick feeling in his stomach prophesied
that she was about to do....

"How can I know you're really--cured, if I don't know what cured you?"

"I suppose you're right," the boy admitted miserably. "There's no need
to ask you not to tell anyone else. Although I don't want to see her
again ever--. Why, Penny, I wouldn't even tell Polly and Clive
yesterday, after it happened, though Polly guessed and went upstairs--.
I tried to keep her back--."

"I don't--quite understand, Ralph," Penny interrupted. "You mean
something happened when you were at Nita's house yesterday morning?"

"Yes. Judge Marshall had promised Nita to have the unfinished half of
the top story turned into a maid's bedroom and bath and a guest bedroom
and bath. Clive let me go to make the estimates. Of course I was glad of
the chance to see Nita again--I hadn't been with her since Thursday
night. But she had to take Lydia in for a dentist's appointment, and
they left me alone in the house. I had to go into the finished half to
make some measurements, and in the bedroom I found--oh, God!" he
groaned, and pressed a fist against his trembling mouth.

"You found that Dexter Sprague was staying there, was using the bedroom
that used to be mine--didn't you?" Penny helped him at last, in
desperation.

"How did you know?" The boy stared at the girl blankly for a moment,
then seemed to crumple as if from a new blow. "I suppose it was common
gossip that Nita and Sprague were lovers, and I was the only one she
fooled!... My God! To think all of you would stand by and let me _marry_
her--a cheap little gold-digger from Broadway, living with a cheap
four-flusher she couldn't get along without and had to send for--"

"Did you--want to kill her, Ralph?" Penny whispered, touching one