The transaction of Bill Marshall's business required upward of half an hour. When it came to driving a bargain, Mary Wayne admitted that he was ruthless and inexorable. He rode rough-shod over opposition; he crushed it.

"You're worse than a trust," she said, wrinkling her nose at him.

"I'm a monopoly," he admitted. "I've got the whole world."

Mary sighed and began straightening his tie.

"But you treated me so badly," she complained.

"Because I loved you," he said, kissing her some more. "Do I have to explain that all over again?"

"Oh, well, Bill Marshall; if you object to explaining——"

"Confound it! Did I say I objected? I don't object."

"Then let me see if you can explain it twice in the same way."

So Bill explained all over again. The explanation may not have been in identical words, but it amounted to the same thing. It rumpled Mary's hair all over again and left her freckles swimming in a sea of pink.

"Oh, Bill!" she whispered, hiding her face.

When they came down from the skies and recognized the familiar details of the office, Mary asked a question.

"Bill, do you think Peter is really serious about Nell?"

"Why?"

"Because she is—terribly."

"Well, then, if he isn't I'll break his neck."

"That's dear of you, Bill; I want her to be happy."

A moment afterward:

"Bill?"

"Yes?"

"What do you think your aunt will say about—us?"

"Let's find out."

They discovered Aunt Caroline in her sitting-room. She glanced over the top of her gold rims and marked her book with her finger.

"Well, what now?" she demanded, but her tone was patient. "Have you attended to your business affairs?"

"Yes, Aunt Caroline," assented Bill. "I've decided to give up society."

"William, I think possibly society has given up you. But I have no complaint to make. I have been thinking it over, and it seems to me that if you care to go into business——"

Bill interrupted her.

"Aunt Caroline, you're stealing our stuff. We've already decided that. I am going into business. I don't know just what—but I'm going."

"That can be decided later," said his aunt. "I'm very glad, William. I think perhaps I made a mistake in attempting—— But we won't discuss that any more."

Mary Wayne was fidgeting.

"I have also decided to abandon my interest in art," observed Bill.

Aunt Caroline regarded him suspiciously.

"William, be careful. Are you sure you are quite well?"

Bill laughed.

"Never better. Now, as to Pete Stearns——"

Mary, who had been growing more and more restless, placed a hand over his lips. Then she ran forward, dropped to her knees and buried her head in Aunt Caroline's lap.

"He's teasing us—both of us," she said in a muffled voice. "That isn't what we came to say at all."

Aunt Caroline stroked the small head.

"And what is it you want to say?" she inquired.

Mary looked up suddenly.

"Will—will you let me marry Bill Marshall—Aunt Caroline?"

The eyes behind the spectacles were smiling.

"Just for calling me 'Aunt Caroline,'" she said, "I believe I will, my dear."

Mary hugged her.

Presently she and Bill went to hunt for Pete Stearns and Nell, who were reported to be in the conservatory. As they departed, Aunt Caroline called:

"If William requires you to give references, my dear, just come to me."

Mary uttered a small shriek.

"References! Oh, please! If anybody ever says 'references' to me again I'll just die. Bill, you'll have to take me without any at all."

Bill took her.

Aunt Caroline readjusted her spectacles and opened her book.

"There is only one thing that really upsets me," she said, half aloud. "I shall never find out what they say about Mrs. Rokeby-Jones's elder daughter."

THE END