"Why, Harry!" she cried as she gazed in bewilderment at the huge pile
of unopened bundles. "Are these all for me?"

"Yes," gulped Van Buren, his face flaming.

"But--what do they contain?" she asked.

"Two hundred and fifty thousand copies of my--my book--'The City of
Credit,'" said Van Buren, his eyes cast down.

"You mean that you--" she began.

"Yes, it's exactly that, Ethel. I--I bought 'em all to--well, to boom
the sales and to--make a name for myself in the world," he said
sheepishly, "or rather for you--but I suppose now that you know---"

"Then all this tremendous sale was arranged between you and your
publishers to deceive me?" she asked.

"Not at all," protested the unhappy Van Buren. "On the contrary, I did
it all myself. Hutchins & Waterbury don't know any more about it than
you did an hour ago. No one knows--except you and I."

Van Buren paused.

"I could not let you marry me without knowing what I had done," he
said. "It would not be fair to--to our future."

"Tell me all about it," she said quietly, and Van Buren made his
confession complete. He told her of his interview with Waterbury--how
the latter had told him his book had fallen flat; how it was "up to
him" to do something; how a sight of a single copy of "The City of
Credit" in the Tremont Street shop window had tempted him first into a
retail fall which had grown ultimately into a wholesale "crime"--as he
put it. He did not spare himself in the least degree, humiliating as
the narration of his story was to him.

"I suppose it is all up with me now," he said ruefully, when he had
finished.

"I don't know," said Ethel quietly. "I don't know, Harry. Perhaps.
Take me home, please. I want to show you something."

The drive back to the Tooker mansion was taken in silence. Van Buren
despised himself too strongly to be able to speak, and Miss Tooker had
fallen into a deep reverie which the poor fellow at her side feared
meant irrevocable ruin to his hopes.

"Come in," said Miss Tooker gravely, as the cab drew up at the house.
"I want to take you up into our attic storeroom, and then ask you a
plain question, Harry, and then I want you to answer that question
simply and truthfully."

Marveling much, Van Buren permitted himself to be led to the topmost
floor of Miss Tooker's house.

"Look in there," said she, opening the door of the storeroom. "Do you
see those packages?"

"Yes," he said. "They look very much like mine, o