a heart-ache.
Dorothy, with her winning responsiveness to an artistic temperament,
felt that she had less cause to complain.

Her affair with Jim had not of late been plain sailing. She had not
written to him very often or a bit regularly, and he had entered a
rather arbitrary protest, so she thought, and one letter at least,
that she had addressed to him had gone astray. Then Jim reached the
conclusion that his letters were not appreciated, and that absence had
caused an estrangement. He nursed his resentment into a cauldron of
bitterness, and with the perverseness of lovers built mountains of
molehills. Not but that such ephemeral erections may, and oftimes do,
cast a shadow that will blot out true regard.

Without a tried and certain knowledge of her heart as concerned Jim,
Dorothy had found the ever gentlemanly attentions of Mr. Dauntrey very
agreeable. Ruth, on such occasions, was inclined to resentful looks
and acts, of which, however, Dorothy was sublimely ignorant.

One day, journeying from Sacramento to San Francisco, it had been
observed that Mr. Dauntrey and Alfy were in close consultation, an
unusual event for those two to find a subject of mutual interest.
Later, in a spirit of fun, Dorothy chided her companion.

"So you have won over Mr. Dauntrey," cried Dorothy, laughing.

"Nonsense," said Alfy, but blushing rosily.

"But for two hours on the train you monopolized him entirely. What did
you find to talk about?"

"Well, for one thing, we were talking about you," was the defensive
response.

"About me, Alfy, what could you have been saying about me?"

"I was telling him," said Alfy, hesitatingly, "about your English
inheritance."

"Oh, but I wonder you did that. I asked that nothing be said about it.
For, as you know, nothing has ever come of the matter, and nothing
may. The locket has never been found, and the lawyer says that there
are other 'seemingly insurmountable requirements.' My, what big words.
I wonder I could string them all together."

"Well," went on Alfy, in her further defense, "he asked about you, and
I couldn't see that there was any harm."

"No real harm, Alfy. And I hoped for Aunt Betty's sake that there was
an inheritance assured. She is so worried about Bellevieu. The
mortgages and taxes seem to eat up everything. I have given her, of
course, all of my earnings, but she says things are still going
badly."

"What are we to do now?" asked Alfy, seeking another subject. "