The embarrassment of both the girls had begun to wear off. The two strange young men, notwithstanding the unaccounted-for absence of the object of Helen’s quest, began to appear less strange. Both possessed potent attractions and undeniable magnetism.

The shy and shrinking Sadie was sure she liked that tall and slender young man with the easy drawl and bright, humorous eyes immensely. The boldness of his glances made her heart beat pleasantly. To her he seemed to possess the master will and wit of the pair, and she felt she could repose perfect confidence in him.

For her part Helen was uncertain just how to sense the situation. One side of her will urged her to leave a message for her betrothed and hurry away. Another strain of consciousness held her fast.

Travers Gladwin’s psychic waves that had so utterly failed in the grill room of the Ritz may or may not have had something to do with this. He felt inspired with a desire to prolong the interview indefinitely. 91 He could not recall ever having been so attracted by the charming personality of any girl as he was by this distressed maiden who was so eager to see her Travers Gladwin.

He was flattered, even by the compliment of having the same name as the unknown. As a further expression of sympathy with Helen in the matter of Mr. Hogg he said earnestly:

“Do you mean to tell me that your aunt insists upon you marrying this––hog?”

“Yes,” replied Helen, passionately. “And he’s awful, and I hate him, and I won’t––I just won’t.”

“I think you’re absolutely right,” Gladwin agreed with her.

“Oh, you do?” cried the delighted Helen. Then, turning triumphantly upon her cousin she exclaimed:

“There!”

But Sadie’s one idea did not include Mr. Hogg. She considered the elopement as a separate matter in which Mr. Hogg was in no way involved, wherefore she said:

“But you’ve only known Mr. Gladwin two weeks.”

“I know,” retorted Helen, “but I’ve loved him for four years.”

“You’ve loved Travers Gladwin four years,” said that young man in a voice hollow with wonder.

“And only known him two weeks,” cut in Whitney Barnes. “By Jove, he must be one of those retroactive soul-mates.”

“I’ve loved him four years,” said Helen stiffly.

“You’ve loved him four years in two weeks,” said Barnes in the tone of one trying to do a sum. “I give up. I can’t do it.”

Helen faced the heretic Barnes and announced impressively:

“Ever since the time he so bravely risked his own life to save that girl. It was splendid, noble!”

Travers Gladwin decided it was time to call a halt on the borrowing proclivities of the unknown double. It was bad enough for some one to appropriate his name, but also to take unto his bogus self the glory of the real one’s heroism was too much.

“You mean that time at Narragansett?” he opened.

“Yes,” said Helen. “Four years ago when he dashed into the roaring surf”–––

“Yes, and fished out a cross-eyed colored lady,” said Gladwin hotly.

“That’s just it,” returned Helen with flashing eyes and heaving bosom. “If she had been beautiful or some one dear to him, it wouldn’t have been half so noble. Oh, it was fine of him!”

“And he told you about that?” asked Gladwin, numbed for the moment.

“No, he didn’t. He’s much too modest. I knew of it the day it happened, and he has been my ideal ever since. But would you believe it, when I first spoke to him about it he could hardly remember it. Imagine doing such a brave thing, and then forgetting all about it.”

“Oh, I’ve forgotten lots of such things,” said the unrecognized hero.

Helen’s lips curled with scorn.

“Yes,” the young man was stung to go on, “and what Travers Gladwin did wasn’t brave at all.”

“What!” Helen gasped.

“She was so fat she couldn’t sink,” derided Gladwin, “so I swam out to her.”

“Yes,” bubbled over the young man, overjoyed at the opportunity of discounting his own heroism, “I swam out to her. I told her to lie on her back and float. Well, she did, and I”–––

“You!”

“Why, yes––er––you see, I was with him. He pushed her to shore. Simplest thing in the world.”

Helen rose angrily. There was both indignation and reproach in her voice.

“It’s shameful to try and belittle his courage, and you say you’re his dearest friend.” She paused for a moment, then went closer to the young man and said in a different tone:

“Oh, I understand you now––you’re saying that to try and make me change my mind. But I shan’t––not for anybody.”

Helen crossed the room to her cousin and gave Sadie the benefit of the look of defiance with which she had confronted Travers Gladwin.

“Oh, please, please don’t say that, Helen,” cried Sadie, all a-flutter. “I know he will agree to a postponement.”

“But I don’t want any postponement,” protested Helen. “I told you what I intended doing and I’m going to do it.”

“Go on, tell her again––we’d all like to hear it,” broke in Gladwin.

Helen swung around and said dramatically:

“I’m going to marry Travers Gladwin to-night.”

Travers Gladwin reeled a little where he stood, met and turned from the beaming stare of Whitney Barnes. As he did so Helen came very close to him, laid her hand on his arm and said tremulously:

“You are his best friend. Tell me honestly, don’t you think I’m right in wanting to marry him?”

This was a poser, but when he did summon an answer it came right out from the heart, his eyes devouring the beautiful girl before him as he spoke.

“Nothing on earth would please me so much as to have you marry Travers Gladwin, and I promise you now that I am going to do everything in my power to persuade you to do it.”

“Oh, I am so glad!” Helen thanked him. A moment later she added with a perplexed smile: “But why did you talk about his bravery as you did?”

“Well, you see”––the young man stopped.

“I suppose,” Helen suggested brightly, “being so very fond of him, you hated the idea of his marrying. Was that it?”

“Yes, but that was before I saw you. I hope you are going to like his best friend just a little.”

There was no mistaking the ardent emphasis on the last sentence and Helen studied the young man’s face curiously. She turned away with a blush and walked across the room.