have luncheon with me?"

Ford hesitated, watch in hand.

"I was about to lie to you, Mr. Adair, and plead business; but I shan't.
I'll tell you the plain truth. I'm too sore just now to be any good
fellow's good company."

"Which is precisely the reason why I asked you," laughed the golden
youth. "Come on; let's go now. You can take it out on me as much as you
like, you know. I shan't mind."

But the club luncheon ignored the business affair completely, as Adair
intended it should. Ford came out of the shell of disappointment with
the salad course, and by way of reparation for his former attitude
talked rather more freely of himself than he was wont to do on such
short acquaintance with any one. The young millionaire met him quite
half-way on this road to a better understanding, contrasting with mild
envy Ford's well-filled, busy life with his own erratic efforts at
time-killing.

"You make me half sorry for myself," he said, when they went to the
smoking-room to light their cigars. "It's no less than a piteous
misfortune when a fellow's father has beaten all the covers of
accomplishment for him."

Ford could laugh now without being bitter.

"The game isn't all corralled, even for you, Mr. Adair. There was
excellent good shooting for you in that directors' meeting this morning,