It was the middle of March, and fashionable New York, having been at least twice through its winter wardrobe, had gone southward for a change of speed. Aiken, Jekyl Island and Palm Beach had all done their share in the midwinter rejuvenation, but the particular set of people with which this story concerns itself were spending the last days of the Lenten season at the Dorsey-Martin’s place in Virginia.

Dorsey-Martin was rich beyond the dreams of Alnaschar, but unlike the unfortunate brother of the barber, had not smashed the glassware in his basket until he had sold it to somebody else, when he was enabled to buy it in again at a much reduced rate. His particular specialty was not glassware, but railroads which, while equally fragile, could be put together again and be made (to all appearances) as good as new.

The fruits of this fortunate talent were in evidence in his well-appointed house in New York with its collection of old English portraits, his palace at Newport just finished, and in his “shooting place” in Virginia.

The Dorsey-Martins had “arrived.” They had been ten years in transit, and their ways had been devious, but their present welcome more than compensated for the pains and money which had been spent in the pilgrimage. The Virginia place, “Clovelly” adjoined that of the Ledyards, and consisted of a thousand acres of preserved woodland and dale, within a night’s journey of New York.[286] Autumn, of course, was the season when “Clovelly” was most in use, but spring frequently found it the scene of gay gatherings such as the present one, for in addition to the squash courts and swimming pool there was court tennis, with a marker constantly in attendance, a good stable, and hospitable neighbors.

It was Nellie Pennington who had prevailed upon Phil Gallatin to accept Mrs. Dorsey-Martin’s invitation, for she knew that Jane Loring was staying at “Mobjack,” the Ledyards’ place, and she hoped that she might yet be the means of bringing the two together. Her interview with Phil had been barren of results, except to confirm her in the suspicion that Nina Jaffray held the key to the puzzle. Nina, who had been one of the early arrivals at “Clovelly,” had so far eluded all her snares; and Nellie Pennington was now convinced that here was a foeman worthy of her subtlest metal. She enjoyed the game hugely, as, apparently, did Nina, and their passages at arms were as skillful (and as ineffectual) as those of two perfectly matched ma?tres d’escrime. Nina knew that Nellie Pennington suspected her of mischief, but she also knew that it was unlikely that any one would ever know, unless from Jane, just what that mischief had been.

The arrival of Phil Gallatin, while it gave Nina happiness, made her keep a narrower guard against the verbal thrusts of her playful adversary.

Phil Gallatin had regained his poise and reached “Clovelly” in a jubilant frame of mind. Two days ago Henry K. Loring had agreed to a conference.

Mr. Leuppold, more suave, more benign, more patronizing than ever, had called and told Gallatin of this noteworthy act of condescension on the part of his client. Nothing, of course, need be expected from such a meeting in the way of concessions, but men of the world like Mr.[287] Leuppold and Mr. Gallatin knew that co-operation was, after all, the soul of business, and that one caught many more flies with treacle than with vinegar.

He continued for half an hour in this vein, platitudinizing and begging the question at issue while Gallatin listened and assented politely, without giving any further intimation of a course of action for Kenyon, Hood and Gallatin. But when the great lawyer had departed, Gallatin went to the window and surveyed the steel gray waters of the Hudson with a gleaming eye, and his face wore a smile which would not depart. Sanborn’s case would never go to court.

The vestiges of this good humor still remained upon his face and in his demeanor all the morning, which had been spent in a run with the Warrenton pack. It was so long since he had ridden to hounds that he had almost forgotten the joy of it, but he was well mounted and finished creditably. Nina Jaffray showed the field her heels for most of the way and Gallatin pounded after her, his muscles aching, determined not to be outridden by a woman.

In the first check, she drew her horse alongside of his and smiled at him.

“Ready to let me announce it yet, Phil?” she asked.

Gallatin just then was wondering whether his leg grip would last out the day.

“Announce what, Nina?” he asked.

“Our engagement,” she returned with a smile. “It’s almost time, you know.”

“Oh, go as far as you like.”

“Don’t laugh!”

“I’ve got to—you make me so happy.”

“Oh, you can joke if you like now, but you’ll have to marry me some day.”

[288]

“Oh, will I? Why?”

“Because you like me. Friendship subdues even Time, Phil. I’m willing to wait.”

And when he looked at her, at loss for a reply, the hounds gave tongue again and they were off at a full gallop. He couldn’t help admiring her this morning. The easy unconventionality of her speech, her attitude of good fellowship, were a part of the setting. This was the scene in which she always appeared to the best advantage and she took the center of the stage with an assurance which showed how well she knew her lines.

It was Nina’s brush, of course, for she had brought down her own best hunter for the occasion and was in at the death with the Huntsman and Master of the Hounds, while Gallatin trailed in with the Field. And in the ride homeward Phil found himself jogging along comfortably at Nina’s side.

“Phil,” she said again, when the others had ridden on ahead. “I hope you won’t laugh at me any more. It’s indecent. I never laugh at you.”

“Oh, don’t you? You’re never doing anything else.”

“It seems so, doesn’t it? That’s my pose, Phil. I’m really very much in earnest about things. I don’t suppose I ever could learn to love anybody—the faculty is lacking, somehow; but I think you know that, even if I didn’t love you, I’d never love any one else, whatever happened, and I’d be true as Death.”

“Yes, I know that. But——”

“But—?” she repeated.

“But—I’m not going to marry,” he laughed.

She shrugged.

“Oh, yes, you will—some day.”

“Why do you think so?”

“Because men of your type always do.”

[289]

“My type?”

“Yes, they usually marry late and beneath them. I’m trying to save you from that mistake.”

He smiled at her saucy profile.

“Marrying one’s equal doesn’t always mean equality.”

“You were always a dreamer, Phil.”

“I think I’ll always dream then, Nina,” he broke in abruptly. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking that you’ve got to marry somebody—anybody—just because you’ve reached the marriageable age. That’s the trap that catches most of us. Marry for love, Nina. You’ve got that much capital to begin on. Love doesn’t die a sudden death.”

“Not unless it’s killed. That happens, you know.”

“You can’t kill it easily. You may scoff at it, deny it, wound it, but it doesn’t die, Nina.”

She turned and examined him narrowly, then shifted her bridle to the other hand and ran her crop along her horse’s neck.

“You know, Jane Loring is going to marry Coley.”

“What has that to do with what we’re talking about?” he said quickly.

“Oh, nothing. Only I thought you’d like to know it. You’ll have a chance to congratulate them to-night.”

“To-night? Where?”

“They’re at the Ledyards’, but they’re dining at ‘Clovelly.’”

“Oh!”

“So, if you’re going to put them asunder, you’d better do it to-night or forever hold your peace.”

He smiled around at her calmly.

“Nothing doing, Nina. You missed it that time. The only things I’m putting asunder are a railroad and[290] an omnivorous coal company. That takes about all my energy.”

“Phil,” she put in thoughtfully after a moment.

“What?”

“What’s the use of waiting? You’re going to marry me in the end, you know.”

“Oh, am I?”

“Yes. You can’t afford to refuse. I’ve got the money, position, and father has influence. That means power for a man of your ability. You’re getting ambitious. I can tell that by the way you’re sticking at things. There’s no telling what you mightn’t accomplish with the help I can bring you. Oh, you could get along alone, of course. But you’d waste a lot of time. You’d better think about it seriously.”

“I have thought about it. I’m really beginning to believe you mean it.”

“Yes, I do mean it. I’ve decided to marry you. And you know I’ve never yet failed at anything I’ve undertaken.”

She was quite in earnest and he looked at her amusedly.

“T............