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“Your final word, Miss Trelevan?” he asked her, in his cool, easy twang.

She wrung her hands together with an unconscious gesture of despair.

“Yes,” she said; and added feverishly: “of course.”

“You think you’ve met the right man?” he pursued, his tone one of gentle inquiry, as if he were speaking to a child.

She nodded. She was white to the lips.

“Yes,” she said again.

He got up then with extreme deliberation.

“Well,” he said, a curious smile flickering about his mouth, “that’s about the biggest surprise I’ve ever had. And I don’t mind telling you so. Sure now that you’re not making a mistake?”

She uttered a little laugh that sounded hysterical.

“Oh, don’t!” she said. “Don’t! I have given you my answer!”

“And I’m to take you seriously?” questioned Kenyon. “Very well. I will. But you mustn’t be frightened.”

He stretched out a steady hand, and laid it on her shoulder. She quivered at his touch, but she did not attempt to resist.

“Don’t be scared,” he said very gently. “I know I’m as ugly as blazes; at least, I’ve been told so, but there’s nothing else to alarm you if you can once get over that.”

There was a note of quaint raillery in his voice. He did not try to draw her to him. Yet she was conscious of a strength that did battle with her half-instinctive aversion–a strength that might have compelled, but preferred to attract.

Unwillingly, at length, she looked at him, meeting his eyes, good-humouredly critical, watching her.

“I am not frightened,” she said, with an effort. “It’s only that–just at first–till I get used to it–it feels rather strange.”

There was unconscious pleading in her voice. He took his hand from her shoulder, looking at her with his queer, speculative smile.

“I don’t want to hustle you any,” he said. “But if that’s all the trouble, I guess I know a remedy.”

Violet drew back sharply.

“Oh, no!” she said. “No!”

She was terrified for the moment lest he should desire to put his remedy to the test. But he made no movement in her direction, and another sort of misgiving assailed her.

“Don’t be vexed,” she said unsteadily. “I–I know I’m despicable. But I shall get over it–if you will give me time.”

“Bless your heart, I’m not vexed,” said Kenyon. “I’m only wondering, don’t you know, how you brought yourself to say ‘Yes’ to me. But no matter, dear. I’m grateful all the same.”

He held out his hand to her, and she laid hers nervously within it. She could not meet his eyes any longer.

Kenyon stooped and put his lips to her cold fingers.

“Jove!” he said softly. “I’m in luck to-day.”

And after that he sat down again, and began to behave like an ordinary visitor.

III

“Great Scotland!” said Jerry.

He looked up from a letter, and gazed at his sister with starting eyes.

“Oh, what?” she exclaimed in alarm.

He sprang up impetuously, and went round the table to her. They were breakfasting in the tiny flat which was theirs for but three short months longer.

“Guess!” he said. “No, don’t! I can’t wait. It’s the family luck, old girl, turned at last! It’s the original gorgeous chance again with a practical dead certainty pushing behind. It’s the Winhalla Railway turning up trumps just in time.”

And, with a whoop that might have been heard from garret to basement, Jerry swept his sister from her chair, and waltzed her giddily round the little room till she cried breathlessly for mercy.

“Oh, but do tell me!” she gasped, when he set her down again. “I want to understand, Jerry. Don’t be so mad. Tell me exactly what has happened!”

“I’ll tell you,” said Jerry, sitting down on the tablecloth. “It’s a letter from Gardner–my broker and man of business generally–written last night to tell me that one of these swaggering capitalists has got hold of the Winhalla Railway scheme, and is going to make things hum. Shares are going up already; and they’ll run sky high by the end of the week. It’s bound to be all right. It was always sound enough. It only wanted capital. He doesn’t tell me the bounder’s name, but that’s no matter. I don’t want to go into partnership. I shall sell, sell, sell, at the top of the boom. Gardner’s to be trusted. He’ll know–and then–and then—-“