she possessed herself of the very best thing of its kind and would
never have, in future, to feel jealous of one that might lie
alluringly in the window.

"This one," she said finally. "I'm quite sure."

Martin didn't ask the price. It was for his bride. He picked it up
and hung it over her wrist, said "The old address," nodded to the
man,--who was just about to call attention to a tray of diamond
brooches,--and led the way out, feeling at least six feet two.

And as Joan regained the street, she passed another milestone in her
life. To be the proprietor of precisely just such a gold bag had
been one of her steady dreams.

"Marty," she said, "what a darling you are!"

The boy's eyes filled with tears.




VI


It was an evening Martin would never forget.

His suggestion that they should dine at Delmonico's and go to the
Empire to see Ethel Barrymore, accepted with avidity, had stirred
Joan to immediate action. She had hailed a taxi, said, "You'll see