feel as if you'd accepted my apology. Won't you say it, Madame
Cordova?'

'Well--yes--since you wish it so much,' Margaret replied, feeling that
she risked nothing.

'Here it is, then,' he said, to her amazement, producing the new novel
from the pocket of his overcoat, and enjoying her surprise as he put
it into her hand.

It looked like a trick of sleight of hand, and she took the book and
stared at him, as a child stares at the conjuror who produces an apple
out of its ear.

'But I saw you throw it away,' she said in a puzzled tone.

'I got two while I was about it,' said Mr. Van Torp, smiling without
showing his teeth. 'It was just as easy and it didn't cost me any
more.'

'I see! Thank you very much.'

She knew that she could not but keep the volume now, and in her heart
she was glad to have it, for Lushington had written to her about it
several times since she had been in America.

'Well, I'll leave you now,' said the millionaire, resuming his stony
expression. 'I hope I've not kept you too long.'

Before Margaret had realised the idiotic conventionality of the last